Keryon Gonplei
by kamagirl
Summary: Keryon Gonplei- The Soul's fight. Clarke finds herself fading from this world after the events of Mount Weather. What could she do differently if she had known everything she does now? How hard would reality fight back if she tried to change things?
1. Prologue

**AN:** Hello. This is the first Fic I've uploaded and I have a huge amount in mind for its future. I can't promise times on updates, but I will say that I won't put things up until they're ready. Let me know if you like it or what to see where it goes. I'm hoping it might get me writing faster.

-Kama

 **Disclaimer** **:** I do not own The 100, or any of its characters.

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 **Prologue:**

Lexa's people were falling back. She stood just inside the tree line watching them get to safety. There was a knot in her stomach, forced there by her deal with the mountain men. Her people that had been stuck in the mountain were now being carried off, alive, some with friends or family reunited at their sides. Each face was remembered and each one lessened the knot slightly.

She knew the sky people would not give up, and they would not lose.

"Victor." She called, and got the attention of the old warrior beside her.

"Sha, Heda?"

"Take two squads of your finest scouts and set up a perimeter around the mountain. _Do not be seen_." The last was spoken with a tone that would not be defied.

"Yes, Heda... But, what is it we are looking for, exactly?" his reply was filled with uncertainty. This whole attack had been filled with uncertainty and confusion from where he was standing. They had a plan that would destroy the mountain, and now they were retreating with not a drop of enemy blood spilled. The whole army had chanted 'jus drein jus daun' but now they fled.

Lexa could see the distaste in the scout's eyes. "The Sky People will not give up without a fight. They will not stop until their people are safe. For now you sit and watch. I expect a number of Skaikru to leave the mountain as a group. When they do; have one squad follow them, do not let Clarke, their leader out of your sight."

Lexa paused there and gave the old warrior a second to process what was said.

"And the other squad, Heda?" The doubts in his eyes hardened to a cruel hope.

"You send them into the mountain and kill every surviving mountain man. Children included."

A cruel grin spread across Victor's face; but the question needed to be asked, "I thought we were to spare the innocent?"

"No one inside that mountain is innocent." Lexa's reply was sharp and fierce. "They have all stolen the blood of my people. Those children will grow up just like their parents."

"Yes, Heda. It will be done."

Victor began to move but stopped in his tracks not three paces towards the mountain. Lexa could almost see the thoughts being processed inside his head.

"Heda?" He asked, the devious light in his eyes dimming once again. At Lexa's nod he continued his question. "What if the Sky People do not leave the mountain?"

"They will." She spoke, but quickly reminded herself to think with her head, and not her heart, "But if they do not, you will send a messenger back to me by midday tomorrow, so that I may rally the army once again.

The answer seemed to appease the old warrior. Lexa made a note to remind him not to question her, once he returned with news on the mountain. Before the scout could leave however, the commander added, "Take the traitor with you." She gestured to Lincoln, who was just regaining consciousness under the watchful eye of several other warriors.

"He will work well in these conditions. When the job is done, bind him and bring him to face my judgement." Victor gave one final nod, pulled Lincoln to his feet and then began calling for his men.

The commander of the twelve clans continued to watch as the last of her freed men and women were lead further into the forest, safe, and with their people, at last.

"You were born for this Clarke. Same as me" Lexa's words echoed in Clarkes head as she willed herself to pull the lever that would save her people.

Killing hundreds to save a few. Was that wrong? After everything the mountain had done?

She reached out and placed a hand on the lever, searching the screens above for the faces of her friends, her mother. "I have to save them" She gasped to Monty beside her. As if asking permission. As if asking forgiveness.

Not a moment before she was about to bring the mountain down, she felt a gentle hand placed atop her own. Her focus shifted, and she found Bellamy standing beside her. "Together" He whispered, and the weight of the world split in two. Half a world was still too much to hold, but maybe now it wouldn't crush her.

She gave half a nod, and they did what they had to.

There was a horrible pause that stretched for an eternity, and then alarms were blaring. Clarke watched the screens before her, and saw hundreds of people slowly fall to the ground, out of strength. She cursed the mountain, she cursed Dante, and she cursed Cage. If he had let them go, then no one would have died. Now everyone was dying.

Clarke wanted a list, wanted their names, wished she known them, felt she owed them at least that. They had saved her friends; her family.

She took a breath, and carried on. The walk through the mountain was so quiet, once the alarm blaring faded to the back of her mind. It was too quiet. She passed bodies, passed Jasper; they said something to him but she couldn't remember. It was a weak excuse, whatever it was. The whole thing was a blur until she saw her mother, being untied from the table.

She gasped and ran to her. All the while realising she would do the whole thing again. Her mother was safe, breathing, holding her. She felt so glad, and guilty, and relieved and a hundred other things as well.

"I tried-" her voice broke. She felt the weight of the world closing in, becoming whole once again. "I tried to be the good guy." Her breathing was heavy and she couldn't keep the tears from her eyes. It hurt so much.

She knew her mother could see it, see her spirit being crushed. Every second on the ground had been so hard.

Somehow Abby knew the only thing to say that wouldn't make it hurt more. "Maybe there are no good guys." And it was true. It had to be true. They'd done so much to stay alive.

Everything blurred again after that. Her mother was placed in a stretcher and carried off as everyone else followed. The walk back to camp became an exercise in sullen steps. Clarke didn't hear a word anyone said. She just let her eyes wander, settling on each of her people in turn.

It was worth it, she knew. She had done enough to bring her people home. Maybe too much, in their eyes; but the sky princess remembered their faces as they helped each other back to camp. She whispered their names, in her mind, like a silent prayer of thanks that they were still here.

All too soon, the gates of Camp Jaha creaked open before them. She stopped at the entry way and Monty took one look at her, before realising she wasn't coming. He gave her a hug, and whispered for her to stay safe.

Bellamy tried to get her to stay. He offered his forgiveness, to convince her to stay. It was practically the same speech she had given him after three hundred people of the Ark were killed to save oxygen; he'd blamed himself because he had broken the radio that Raven came down with.

His words still softened her resolve; but it wasn't _his_ forgiveness that she needed. If she were to stay with those she had saved, some would think she was a monster for the rest of her days.

"Take care of them for me." But he protested again. Why wouldn't he just let her go?

"No, seeing their faces every day, is just gonna remind me of what I did to get them here."

"What _we_ did." He sounded so sincere. But she was the one that had killed Dante, she asked Monty to set it all up; she had pointed the gun. The fact that Bellamy had helped pull the trigger, didn't absolve her of any of it. Not really. "You don't have to do this alone."

He almost made her change her mind. Almost.

She looked back at her people, inside the camp. They were reuniting with their friends.

"I bear it, so they don't have to."

"Where're you gonna go?" It was the last ditch effort, the last please.

"I don't know." And they were the truest words she had ever let leave her mouth.

She said her last goodbye and walked away. Every step was easier; for a while. And then each step was heavier than the last.

Once she was well inside the tree line she stopped and wondered. Where _was_ she going to go? She looked up and saw the peak of Mount Weather above the trees. With one shuddering breath, she put the mountain to her back and started walking.

She remembered faces, from when she was walking 'free' inside the mountain. They were faces she'd just glanced at, the kind man that handed her a piece of cake, a little boy with a ball, glimpses of faces; but now she could see all of them. Fresh, and unburnt, some of them smiling at her. She tried not to think of them afterwards, but it was no real use.

Rows of people, scattered, fallen; they all burned the back of her eyelids as she willed them away without success. She tried counting footsteps and trees. Trying to find something to distract her, but eventually everything came back. Was it all her fault?

First her father, then the hundred started dropping like flies, and she couldn't save them. What would she have done differently? _Could_ she have done anything differently? Or would things just find a way to turn more horrible than this?

The sun was high overhead now. Somewhere along the line Clarke had stopped. She was sitting on the ground with her back pressed against a tree and her knees to her chest.

She wasn't thinking, and somehow she was thinking too much. Everything was just white noise in her head as she refused to entertain any train of thought to its completion.

Her hand gun was in her hand. She thought that it was there the whole time but now she was staring at it, and there were tears stinging her eyes. She couldn't breathe, or maybe she could and didn't want to. Her breath was gasping and her grip on the gun was white knuckled and clamping.

After a small eternity she peeled her eyes from the gun and took a searing painful breath. What came after was somewhere between scream and wail. It didn't sound human.

Sometime later there was nothing. She didn't feel anything at all. She heard branches snap to her right and her head whipped around. Her heart thundered in her chest, her body responded with adrenaline, with fear. She didn't feel anything.

Her physical response increased, at the realisation that she felt nothing. She was afraid, terrified that she didn't feel, but there was only a blank space greeting her shaking form.

So Clarke stood, and kept walking through the woods. She tried to calm her breathing and slow her heart rate. Once that settled she felt a deep knot of fear settle in the pit of her stomach. That was worse than feeling all the anguish. Feeling that nothing, had been worse than the agony.

It was another few hours before Clarke realised that her steps were taking her somewhere. She looked at the setting sun and tried to guess where she was in relation to Camp Jaha. But her feet kept drawing her weary body onwards. She didn't know where she was going, but it was where she was supposed to be.

Suddenly, Clarke stopped dead in her tracks. She looked down and found her toes set just behind a perfect line of grass. The dirty leaf strewn forest floor shifted to a soft and perfect green. There was a power there. A threshold stood before her, calling her inwards. She held her breath and took one step.

And she melted. All her pain and exhaustion and everything melted away and left only a weary soul. It felt peaceful here.

Clarke continued inwards and found herself in the centre of a small glade. There was a great patch of sky above her and she gazed at the stars. Looking down she saw a dark, crescent shaped pool that looked like it could be as deep as a mountain is high. Around her, the trees were huge, and thick around as six people's arm spans. They felt old, and alive, and like they were watching her.

But not in a menacing way. Some watched with curiosity as though they wondered why a human would find themselves amongst their home. Others felt as if they watched her with whispers of pride.

It was an odd feeling, to be the subject of the tree's interests, but it did not bother Clarke.

Scattered between the trees were shrubs and bushes. Some glowing with a faint light on their edges, others bearing berries that looked ripe and inviting.

With no troubles, and a weary person, she removed her jacket, picked a pile of berries and then set herself in the centre of the crescent of the pond. She removed her boots and socks and dipped her sore feet in the cool waters. A great sigh escaped her, and she sat munching on sweet berries, feeling like a person for the first time in a long while.

Lexa received Victor's latest report from one of his scouts. The leader of the sky people had utterly destroyed the mountain. They were already calling Clarke Wanheda, the commander of death. The name made Lexa a sick mix of pride and distress.

Only one mountain man had escaped, but Lincoln had taken great joy in hunting the man down. The escapee had been the de facto leader of the mountain in the last few days, but he was also the man that turned men into Reapers. Lincoln gave him what he deserved.

Skaikru then travelled in a group back to their camp. Wanheda did not enter their camp, but instead split from the group and headed out through the woods.

It was well after noon, and Lexa organised another group of scouts to head into the mountain and scrounge up some food or take any clothes that they could find, as long as they were not attached to the dead.

After that, she spent some time organising camp and ensuring the twelve clans were being fed and that they were in some semblance of order. Heda then Informed Ryder that she was following the trail of the Skaikru leader. Ryder was instructed to send a runner after her should anything go awry with her subjects. Messages were sent to Polis to inform them of the destruction of the mountain. Everything was as organised as she could make it, short of babysitting everyone, so Lexa headed out to find the rest of her scouts.

As the last rays of sunlight kissed the horizon, she travelled along the path that Victor's report had described his second team of scouts heading. She met one scout halfway as they were returning to report in Clarke's most current whereabouts. The sky princess was headed disturbingly close to _Keryon Glad_ , The Soul's Glade. Lexa quickened her pace.

The Soul's Glade was surrounded by many stories within Trikru folklore. It was said to be a place no man had stepped. It was whispered that it got its name because it contains the soul of the forest. Or that any who enter its depths forfeit their souls to the forest's wishes. Everyone who nears it is lead around it, purely by the menacing power that surrounded the area.

Lexa wasn't sure if she believed any of the stories. There were too many to count to ignore them altogether, but perhaps that foreboding feeling people felt when they drew close, was caused by their own expectations.

After a lengthy hard ride on horseback Lexa approached a member of the scout team. Gerrit, she believed his name to be. He was young, almost as young as Lexa. He still had that flare of bravado hiding behind his eyes, meaning he had not yet learnt how to lose graciously. The man was neither short nor tall, but he had the thin, wiry physique that seemed to suit scouting and tracking work well. At the Commanders orders, the young scout referred her to where Victor himself, was stationed on the far side of the Glade.

Before Lexa departed to find the scout's lieutenant, she questioned the boy. Perhaps she could eliminate any conflicting answers.

"Heda," He bowed his head in respect. "The Skaikru leader has walked through the woods, nearly all day. She stopped out of nowhere around noon. She stayed like that for a couple hours and then kept walking. She entered _Keryon Glad_ a few hours ago. Victor allowed us to remain outside its borders. Since then we have been on watch at intervals around the glade, in case she exits. There have been no signs of Wanheda since."

Lexa's focus shifted in attempts to peer through the tree line and into The Glade, but there was nothing to be seen through the dense tree growth.

"You're certain she entered the glade?" She asked the scout. He nodded once, firmly, and with distaste in his eyes.

The Commander could see that he was holding his tongue about his thoughts on either The Glade, or of Clarke. She was not inclined to entertain either line of thought.

"Remain at your post, Gerrit."

To hell with Victor, she thought as she walked forward into where _Keryon Glad_ began.

"H-Heda?!" Gerrit's voice trembled as he called after his commander. She was not inclined to answer to the whims of all her warriors, but something in his voice made her turn. The glare she gave him was enough to get him to speak quickly.

"How? - D-Don't you feel it? How can...?" He looked genuinely terrified now. His eyes were glazed with fear and his hand was gripped tightly around his sword.

"Feel what?" There was no patience left in her for this scout. It was not his place to question her.

"The forest- It does not want anyone to see that part of her. We- We could not follow Wanheda- not out of caution, none could-" He took a deep shaky breath and his stare shifted to try and pierce through the trees towards The Glade, as if a monster were about to exit its depths. "We can't get close."

This was ridiculous. There was no animosity coming from the forest. "Come here, scout."

"Heda?"

"Stand at my side." She ordered sharply.

He swallowed stiffly and shuffled towards her by two steps, then three. When his fourth stride made contact with the ground, his whole body tensed. It looked as though the man had turned to stone, until he started shaking. He physically shook and when he tried to take another step towards the Commander, his legs buckled beneath him. He cried out and shuffled backwards.

"We should not enter there. We are no welcome." He croaked to her before backing up out of sight. He would likely calm himself and then return to Victor with news of all that happened. The boy would be punished for abandoning his post.

However, all these thoughts were secondary to Lexa's bewilderment. There was a slight inkling of fear, which she embraced. This was however overshadowed by a stark curiosity. She found her feet carrying her inwards, into The Soul's Glade.

Clarke was not lost in thought, per se; but lost in peace. There was a blessed emptiness that filled her in this Glade. Her feet still dangled in the cool waters of the crescent pond. She was lying on her back, arm spread, relaxed. Her left hand occasionally reached from her stomach to her mouth, passing another sweet red berry between her lips. Her eyes scanned the sea of stars above her and marvelled at how wonderful it was to see them without thick glass impeding her view.

She had no desire to see the stars up close, or ever see space again. The first breath of fresh air had been a sweet kiss to her sheltered senses. And every breath since, no matter its context had been more freeing than any she had ever taken on The Ark. As cursed as her time on the ground had been, Clarke would rather live free and cursed than be trapped and safe.

Her wandering mind, not lingering in any one place for any length of time, did not notice that the stars had shifted position in the sky. She held no concept of time here. As such the soft footsteps she heard behind her did not startle her. The light gasp as the steps hesitated made her smile, and when the soft trudging brought Lexa into view, she was not surprised.

What did surprise Clarke however, was that she was happy to see Lexa, that she was glad, that someone else should discover this astounding piece of serenity. She had expected to be angry, spiteful even, towards the commander for abandoning her people; but she suddenly understood. Clarke would have done the same thing for her people. She would have abandoned her heart, because that is what was expected of her.

Lexa sat down on the grass in silence. It was a mournful silence, filled with apology and mutual regret. The moment passed and they both sighed, and it was an understanding exhale. The commander took of her boots and socks and dunked her feet in the pool. A groan escaped her, pleased at the relief the water gave her. Another, more peaceful silence grew between them; and Lexa sighed as she lay down beside the sky princess.

Clarke handed her companion a great handful of berries, and they both munched on them happily.

"My mother used to pick berries just like these and fold them in the middle of small loaves of bread." Lexa spoke, quietly. She spoke with reverence towards the memory, "There was no greater treat when I was little, than to come back and find one waiting for me." Clarke listened, but didn't say anything. Lexa could feel her hearing the words though, waiting for the next ones. "That's just about the only thing I remember of her, but I will always think of a safe place when I think of warm berry bread." The pause stretched then, and Lexa waited for a response with baited breath.

"My father used to draw a dozen plants on a page, just scribbles-" Clarke hummed with the same esteem. "Then he'd make me pick the ones he'd made up, and drawn from his imagination." She laughed once, softly, at the memory. "It was a smart way for him to teach me about earth plants, but I think he liked the made up ones more than anything."

And so began a long and thoughtful exchanging of stories. Lexa had had a ruthlessly competitive friendship with one of the others that were training to be commander. Vara had been better at fighting than Lexa by a mile, but the other girl wouldn't rest unless Lexa got the better of her at least once, each time they practised.

Clarke had had trouble as a kid, making "th" sounds, and "s's" and "l's". The young Griffin had battled hard with herself to get past her speech problems, and sometimes they still echoed through in her voice when she was stressed.

Clarke learnt all about Night Bloods, and the Conclave, about how the next Heda was chosen. Lexa learnt about How the Ark stayed in space, about how and why they'd come back down to the ground.

Clarke learnt about the time Lexa had gotten stuck so high up in a tree that Anya couldn't get to her she was too big and would break the branches. Lexa was forced to jump several feet into her mentor's arms so she could be guided safely to the earth.

Lexa learnt about when Clarke had skipped school for several days, hiding in the vents of the Med-Bay, watching her mother heal people, wanting to never have to go back to class again.

Some were trivial tales; others were personal secrets that had never left the speakers lips until now. Some were harsh realities that neither of them wished to face.

But at the end of each story, the speaker felt a little lighter, and they were holding their breath waiting patiently, excitedly for the other's tale in response to their own.

Smiles were exchanged, and frowns, sad tears and joyous laughter. The sun had risen high again and was on its way down to setting once more. Now they both sat side by side, leaning their backs against the same trunk of one of the ancient trees. They didn't seem to notice that neither of them had spoken for a while.

As their arms became leaden and their eyes heavy, they both assumed that it was due to exhaustion, they were certainly due a rest, were they not? But when Clarke's heart beat began to slow of its own accord, and her breath hitched in her chest, she asked Lexa if it was those berries that her mother put in sweet loaves of bread.

"They look the same-" The weary commander replied, "But mothers berries never tasted so sweet, they didn't taste like that." Lexa didn't seem to make the connection that the other woman had. "These ones taste better." She picked another from beside her, and Clarke's hand snapped out to grab it before it reached her mouth. The blondes grip slackened and slipped as she fell forward.

"I think they're poison." She murmured, but she couldn't rack up an ounce of fear at the prospect of death. Lexa had tried to grab her falling form, but was quickly dragged down into a similar position.

"I think you're right." Lexa whispered as her breath too, hitched in her chest.

The two leaders lay side by side in the midst of The Soul's Glade. They slowly ran out of breath, out of heartbeats. But both were quiet and at peace, and the ancient trees watched over them with a knowing eye.

A great lively breath escaped Clarke's chest and she reluctantly opened her eyes. She found herself of a stiff bed looking up at a window that peered towards a distant earth.

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 **AN:** Yes, its one of those stories. The flash back ones. Like I said earlier, I have so much planned for this, I hope you enjoyed it. If you didn't, I thank you for reading it any way.  
We'll find out how Clarke reacts to her position next chapter. Later we'll see how she goes trying to understand how the reset happened.  
Thanks again.

-Kama


	2. Chapter 1

**AN:** Hello all,  
I'd like to thank everyone one that read, followed and Favorited the story so far, right off the bat.  
That said, I'll pre-warn you that the first half of this chapter is a bit slow, its the kind of thing you'll see in all the fics like this. However, establishing those things are necessary for me to get into the juicy parts.

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy the first chapter of Keryon Gonplei

EDIT: This is a three part story. Each part will be presented a little differently and follow different sorts of events.  
I've added this physical distinction later because I've now confirmed the events in each part a little more and I wanted a dramatic *End of Part One* for cliff hanger purposes.

I also fixed an inconsistency that I hope nobody noticed...

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 **Part 1: A Soul that Wanders**

 **Chapter 1:**

Clarke shot up from her bed in The Skybox. She ran to the door and ran her hands down its edges confirming that it was, in fact real. A fierce panic was blooming in her gut and she paced the rest of the room. She noticed every crack was in the same place, every chip of paint and scratch. This was her cell. No dream could be this detailed, at least none she had experienced before now.

Clarke did notice however that not all of her drawings were the same. Or rather that they were not as complete as when she had left them. She looked more closely at the drawings on the wall and deduced that she was at least a couple of weeks away from being sent to the ground.

But that was impossible. There was no way to travel back in time. If there were she would definitely not have arrived in her old body, crossing paths and what not. Maybe this was a way to avoid paradoxes.

It was a ridiculous line of thinking. She couldn't possibly be here. There was no way she had arrived in a room before the events of the ground. If she had, if this was real, would it be a blessing or a curse? Off course it wasn't real, it couldn't be.

Nonetheless she found herself thinking of critical moments. Thinking of what moments had defined people. Letting 300 people on The Ark get killed to save them air had been a harsh reality for Bellamy. It had made him grow as a leader and a person in general. Reports from her mother had described Kane going through a similar transformation. Could she change that? Would it be right for her to change that? Would those two discover their potentials for leadership own their own, without that hanging over them?

There were too many questions, too many unknowns.

Clarke paced her cell, back and forth a hundred times before realising that she hated being here, that she had always hated being stuck in the confines of the Ark. She had dreamed of the endlessness of the ground, the wide open fields and the vast spaces.

She wondered if she could speed up the process to get her to the ground. She wondered just how close her predictions of the date were. There was nothing she could do but wait.

Hours passed and Clarke became increasingly anxious as to the reality of her situation. No hallucination worth their while would have you pacing in a room for hours with nothing else. Latches on the cell door clanked open and her head whipped around, wondering what the purpose of its opening was.

"Breakfast, prisoner." A curt voice echoed through a small gap in her door before a tray was roughly shoved through.

Clarke scrambled to her feet, and grabbed the tray. "Hey, what's the date?" she asked him. His hand tensed on the tray, not letting it go.

"What did you say to me prisoner?!" There was a harsh, quiet reply.

Clarke sighed, remembering that the Skybox guards were mostly the ones that couldn't be trusted with ordinary guard work. "I just, I lose track of time in here. I-I wondered..." She made her voice crack. Maybe she'd get his pity. "W-what the date was? To see how long I've got...?"

The guard roughly let go of the tray, some of its contents splattered on the floor with the force of it.

Clarke thought she wasn't going to get an answer, but just before the hatch closed a date was growled at her.

Twenty days until the drop ship. Just under three weeks. Three more weeks of being trapped in this tight little cell.

Clarke sat down on the edge of her bed, disheartened. She scooped up a piece of slop on her tray, eating Ark food for the first time in a long while. Three more weeks, she thought, of terrible food.

Clarke couldn't sleep that night. She couldn't turn her brain off, and was infected with thoughts of every death she had witnessed on the ground. After that there was a balance found; she would either dream of that peaceful glade waking up content and rested. Or she would wake up wreathing from a horrible nightmare. Mostly of the Mountain, but her older dreams plagued her as well. She dreamt of her Father flying out of an air lock, Charlotte leaping from that cliff, Lincoln being tortured by her own people.

The days passed painfully slow in Clarke's cell. Being in solitary meant she got no visitation. They feared that she would tell someone that the Ark was dying.

She did not know if they were right.

Her days were spent thinking too much. In between this she drew sketches of important things from the ground. A crude map showing the drop ship location relative to TonDC, Mount Weather and things like water sources and game tracks her people had discovered that were good places to start hunting. She drew the drop ship, the map of the inside of the mountain and her memory of the pieces of the Ark that had survived their landing.

Then she drew people. Her mother may not have been able to visit her but she was handed extra pieces of charcoal throughout her days in solitary. She drew Anya, and Lincoln, and Lexa and Gustus. Perhaps her sketches of some people were more detailed than others, but she did not linger on this.

When she wasn't thinking or drawing, she exercised. She had done that last time; there were negative health effects for people on the Ark that didn't keep up physical activity. The gravity that the Ark's rotation generated wasn't quite that of earth and it was possible to see inconsistencies in muscular structure with those that didn't work to stay healthy. This time however she was doing different things. In the few weeks leading up to the attack on The Mountain, she had been taught the beginnings of hand to hand combat. Now she ran through several moves achingly slow and was sweating by the end of each sequence. She stopped after each move and looked at the placement of her feet and arms, making sure she was balanced and strong.

Other exercises were implemented into her scheme. Things to build up muscles and increase fitness father than just something to maintain a BMI. These things were escapes for her. When she was drawing she could focus on a specific moment and forget about the implications of her position. When she practised the forms the grounders had started teaching her she could focus her attention to a tunnel vision, forgetting everything. Eventually though, she always had to remember.

How was she here? She would think to herself. The last thing she remembered was sitting with Lexa in that clearing. The clearing that felt so important to her, it was so powerful, but she couldn't figure out how or why she felt this. They'd been talking, they were weary; right at the end they were falling asleep, weren't they?

Could she save her people? There were two boys at the beginning that unstrapped themselves from their seats and died when the ship landed. How could she use what she knew to her advantage, without raising suspicion?

The days continued to pass tediously and Clarke still fretted about what to do. Though now she had the beginnings of a plan. Her people had to come first. That was a given. The Ark had to be informed of their survival and the hundred on the ground needed to band together quickly to start gathering resources as soon as possible.

Clarke knew where several barrels of guns were stored, she knew there were more there than what they'd found last time. She would find them, but not tell anyone, she'd use it for hunting, and slowly give them to people she trusted enough not to go on rampages against the grounders. They would not go to Mount Weather. The crossing point was mostly guarded, and she didn't know how to make her people believe it wasn't a good idea.

She kept thinking. What would she do with Murphy? He was trouble, and she didn't know how to keep him off everyone's backs, and vice versa. Bellamy had to be convinced that he didn't kill Jaha. Half of Clarkes plans were broken down and made redundant when she thought about it too much. Then there was the problem of time. Would it fight against her? Would it resist the changes she would try to make?

She was going crazy in the Skybox. Time was simultaneously moving too fast and not fast enough, she was only sleeping well half the time and it was taking its toll.

She had made marks on the piece of wall above her bed and smudged each one out as a new day came. Finally, after twenty days of a hell that rivalled the Mountain, two guards entered her cell.

"Prisoner 319, face the wall." She'd hidden her father's watch behind the waistband of her jeans; she would not let them take it last time, and she wouldn't let it happen now either. She held her arm out when they asked and they seemed curious as to why she wasn't protesting, confused at her placidness. All she gave them was a defiant stare. But she had to put on a show.

One guard scoffed at her defiance and turn to the other, about to say something, and she bolted, dodging their attempts to stop her and shutting the door to her cell behind her, guards and all. She saw others in the skybox being escorted around and everything suddenly felt very surreal. The cell door open and she made to run, her mother calling for her to stop, just like last time. Everything had been theoretical before now, buy her mother looked at her just like she had the first time. She shook her head. "Mom, what's going on?" and Abigail Griffon embraced her daughter. The question wasn't an act this time. She didn't know what she could do.

Clarke was being overwhelmed, the weight of the world coming down on her like a tonne of bricks. It was all real. She clutched at her mother, but she had to warn her. She had to help them. Everyone on the Ark, all the members of The Hundred and the Grounders that didn't know better. She had to help them, save them.

Her heart was beating in her chest. She had to choose, right now. What would she say, what could she say to help their people? "The Comm.'s will go down." She felt her mother's grip on her tighten.

"Clarke, what-?"

"No, listen. I know we're going to the ground." Her mother pushed her back to look her in the eyes. Brown eyes sharp, and attentive met her own. "The Comm.'s will go down, but I'll send you a message. Look at the order." She said

"Clarke, how do you- What do mean?"

Words tumbled out of her mouth now, unsure if she'd overstepped. "Hopefully there won't be any spelling mistakes." Abby frowned, looking at her daughter with concern. "You can bring the whole Ark down. And send Raven. Raven Reyes, she'll help you. Put a proper med kit in the drop ship this time, hopefully we-we won't need it, but-"

A pair of warm hands settled themselves on Clarke's cheeks and she lifted her eyes from where they had sunk to the floor. "Breathe Clarke." Her mother didn't seem to be listening to a work she had said, but she took a steadying breath anyway. She swallowed her next outburst of words and traded it for another deep breath. "You're being sent to the ground. All one hundred of you."

It was the same speech. Take care of yourself; you'll want to put other first. "I know," Clarke responded sharply, "Mom, you have to hear m-..." she felt a small sharp pain in her back and everything started fading to black. This was not the start she had hoped for.

She came to on the drop ship and Wells was sitting beside her. "Welcome back." He spoke confidently, though his eyes betrayed him. He waited for an outburst that wouldn't come.

All Clarke did was whisper his name, glad to see his face.

"Look, when I..." his words faded into the background and she searched the faces around her. Tears came to her eyes seeing everyone alive. She would know them all this time. She vowed this to herself. She would learn all their names, their stories, she would do better. Wells was alive and still fighting for her. She pondered briefly how she would convince Wells that she knew. He hadn't sold out her father, all that seemed so long ago. Although thoughts of Jake Griffon still left a painful, gaping ache in her chest, it was no longer a fresh tearing one. Even if Wells had sold out her father, she would have forgiven him, in time; just as she had forgiven her Mother.

The drop ship jolted as it hit the atmosphere, and Chancellor Jaha's message started speaking over them. She didn't listen, though she did scoff at the mention of Mount Weather.

Finn Collins unclasped his belt and started floating. A panic arose in Clarke's chest and she snapped her eyes across the room and saw the two others trying to get out of their own seats. She'd replayed this moment in her head a thousand times and all she would be able to do would be to talk them out of it. She took a deep, shuddering breath. It started now. This was when she saved her people, right now.

"Hey space walker!" she called out condescendingly. "Do you think the hundred year old bucket of rust is gonna have a nice landing then you're wrong." Finn's face split into a smug grin, and somewhere in Clarke's chest something tensed at the sight.

The two boys across from her had paused and looked up briefly at their exchange. "What's wrong Prince-" Clarke saw the boys go back to cutting at their seat belts and cut Finn off.

"I don't know about the rest of these guys, but I don't really want to scrape your sorry ass off the drop ship floor before we even get to the ground." To punctuate her sentence the whole ship shuddered once and Fin's eyes went wide for a moment. "Get back in your seat, space walker."

There was a tense moment when everyone's eyes were on the two of them. They locked stares to see who would give in first. The two boys across the way had stopped again, and were waiting with baited breath to see Finn's response. Clarke wasn't budging. She nodded her head over to the boys and Fin finally looked over and saw why she was being so adamant. "Okay." He said quietly and pulled himself back to his seat. The other two seamed to deflate at the news, but remained in their seats nonetheless.

Clarke felt a heavy stare burning at her to her right and she turned to Wells. In her peripheral she saw Finn glide quickly back to his seat. It looked like she had just been fast enough as the parachutes deployed, jolting the whole ship violently.

The young Jaha's eyes widened and said something about rockets and Clarke knew she was supposed to reassure him that it wouldn't take long, but she could see the inevitable coming. "There's something I have to tell you." He said and she suddenly felt like her foreknowledge wouldn't help her at all. Could she just say she knew? No. The alternative was horrible, but maybe it would placate him for a while.

"You didn't get my Father arrested, Wells, he did that to himself." They were bold words, and she hoped he couldn't see through the lie. She would never think ill of her Father.

Once again his eyes widened, and she could see him trying to process what she'd said. There was an awkward pause in their chatter, but wells took another deep breath. "I know you think it was my fault though, and I can't die knowing that you hate me." The sentence seemed overly presumptuous this time round.

"It wasn't your fault Wells, and I don't hate you." What she did hate were the memories of this moment from before. She had been so brash, and quick to anger. Perhaps making him think she blamed her Father wasn't as terrible as she's thinking it will be.

The ship landed and she ran down to the lower levels, seeing Bellamy Blake as he was when they first met. She let that scene play out as it had, without interrupting about toxic air. Octavia remained the first person of the Ark to step foot on the ground and everyone flooded out excitedly. When her feet touched the earth again, she felt like she was returning home, after a long day. She moved out of the way of the others and watched their excitement with a sad smile.

Finn traipsed up to her and she rolled her eyes. She didn't have enough in her to play along; he called her Princess and asked why the long face and she said nothing. He wasn't ruined by the ground yet. He wasn't changed. He hadn't killed eighteen unarmed people, trying to find her. He was still Finn. She sighed morosely. Maybe he would stay that way this time, but she was already changed, already a killer of several hundred innocents inside the mountain. Perhaps she could convince him that he would see Raven again, one day soon. Maybe that would make him keep his distance. He studied her curiously and introduced himself. She only nodded and he wandered off.

A short while later, after she'd gathered a few things; Wells approached her and told her they needed to get to Mount Weather. Her eyes hardened and she spoke sharply. "I don't think hundred year old intel is gonna help us now, Wells. We need to hunt and find water. We can fend for ourselves" He was about to protest. "And _you_ need to _keep your head down_. Half these kids lost their parents to your father's reign. You need to convince them slowly that you're not the same person he is." He frowned and she moved away from him, towards Bellamy Blake.

They couldn't be at odds. The group suffered too much last time around; it suffered every time they didn't agree.

"Blake," she called out, thankfully Octavia wasn't nearby, or she would have had to navigate the both of them. "You gotta second?" She nodded her head towards the drop ship. His expression went stormy, but he followed her inside anyway.

"What do you want, Princess?" Good to know she wouldn't escape that nickname, ever. She took a breath. Bellamy was going to be the wild card. Either he'd rebel outright, or see reason; the way Clarke saw it, it was a fifty-fifty chance.

Start with the basics, she thought. "Bellamy, right? I'm Clarke, Clarke Griffon." He nodded once, acknowledging the introduction."Do you know why they sent us down here?" He shifted his weight to one foot and crossed his arms. One eyebrow rose as an unamused invitation to continue. "The Ark is dying. They're gonna run out of air real soon, unless they see that people can survive on the ground." She paused again, as his face scrunched up impatiently.

"Why would I care, what happens on the Ark? We're down here, and they're up there."

"If they don't see that we can survive down here then they'll cull. They'll pick the people they think are least important and get rid of them, blaming it on an engineering fault."

"How the hell do you know this? And why the hell are you telling me?" He wasn't impressed, this wasn't working.

"My father found out, and they floated him for it, and I'm telling you because you shot Jaha."

Lighting fast he pulled out his hand gun, darting in close and pressing it up, under her chin. His breathing was ragged and Clarke worried that she'd stepped over the line. She had to change things, and she needed Bellamy's help to do it.

"He's not dead." She spoke softly, but confidently "And I'm betting he wants to know who put you up to it. These kids need someone to lead them, and I can see they already look up to you." There was a flicker in his eyes, whether he doubted himself or Clarke, she didn't know. "In that vid message Jaha said all crimes would be pardoned if we stayed alive, I don't see why that can't apply to you as well. If he tries to change that, then he'll have all you're little friends to go through. You just need to win them over first."

There was a spark of hope in his eyes, but she still hadn't won him over. The handgun pressed harder up into her neck. "And what do you get out of this?" it was a carefully placed question.

"You help keep my people alive. That's all I want here; just to keep them safe, happy if possible, but I'll settle for breathing." There was a long, heavy silence as he searched her eyes, glancing form one to the other, looking for a lie.

"They'll never pardon me." He practically spat. His ire for the Ark was palpable.

"They will if you keep their children alive, and let them know that they can follow." Her tone was harsh with its veracity. This was the truth. She didn't just believe it, she'd lived it. He took an unconscious step backwards, out of her space and started to lower the gun.

"You really believe that, don't you?" It wasn't condescending, it was sincere. Clarke was almost startled by how shy he seemed asking that question.

"I know it." And faster than his own gun draw, she snapped two hands out, one after the other and was quickly holding the handgun. "Now, I'm going to shoot us some food. Get them building a fire that will cook something big, and set out troughs to catch any rain that falls."

He stood, stunned. He looked down at his empty hands and then back to her and was begrudgingly impressed. She didn't give him a chance to respond and only walked towards the exit.

Once outside, she checked the weapon openly and swapped it out for her Father's watch at her waist, putting the watch back on her wrist. As she traipsed towards the river Finn and Wells both strode up to her.

"Where did you get a gun?" Wells sounded shocked, and clearly disapproved.

"Where're we going Princess? We gonna catch some Mountain food?" Finn interrupted.

Clarke's head was still in the drop ship, analysing her conversation with Bellamy. There was no way he'd come around that easy. Give him a day and he'd doubt himself once again. She was going to have to move quickly, or find a way to actually convince him.

"Jasper, Monty." She called out and the two best friends turned to face them. Clarke stopped in her tracks when Jasper turned with a grin spread wide on his face. She was struck with the image of him on the floor holding Maya, despising her.

"Yeeeah?" He spoke, looking at her curiously.

'I-I..." She shook her head briefly, dispelling the unwanted image, knowing that tonight was not a night she would sleep. "We're going hunting. You guys can follow, and help bring back whatever we catch."

"What makes you think there's anything living on this hunk of rock?" Octavia strutted up behind them and circled Finn with a predators eye.

"If tree's can grow, food can grow. There has to be a food chain. Let's go." She nodded to Octavia in invitation. They strode off, but not two strides in, Bellamy stepped out of the drop ship and called after his sister. "I'll bring her back in one piece Bellamy." She said it nonchalantly and O scoffed. "Either that or she'll bring me back in pieces." Her second scoff was more a laugh than one of disgust, and Clarke was reminded of how much the younger Blake would grow, here on the ground.

Clarke, Monty, Jasper, Finn, Wells and Octavia headed out to find some food, and Clarke knew just where to get it.

As they neared the spot where she saw the deer last time she gestured for silence and drew the gun. They'd set off a little quicker this time than last, so the deer wasn't there yet. She waited, steadying her breathing so she could aim more steadily. Several steady moments passed in silence.

"What are-" Monty Whispered, but was cut off by the animal entering their view from the left. The other's were mesmerised by the creature, but Clarke just raised the gun with a deep breath, let half the breath out and held it; then she squeezed the trigger, twice, moving ever so slightly between each shot. The gunfire echoed horribly through the forest and Clarke pondered on how much more quickly she could grab the Grounders attentions. One shot hit the deer's chest, the other its neck, at the impact; it scrambled a few steps before collapsing to the ground.

Clarke moved forward quickly, scanning the trees, just in case. The deer wasn't breathing when she got to it, thankfully. She laid a hand on its nose and thanked it under her breath anyway. The others followed after her eventually; they all looked a little sad, that she had killed the first animal they'd ever seen. Nonetheless, she directed them to grab a small log and tie the animal to it with some straps she'd taken from the drop ship.

Once they had it all tied up she told them where they needed to go to get back to camp and gestured for them to start moving. They turned, but realised she wasn't following. "So you get out of lugging this thing back. Typical." Octavia commented. She could tell just by looking at the Sky Princess that no amount of words would change her mind.

Sadly Wells did not get the memo. "What are you doing? We have to go back."

"Yes, you do. I'll scout around a bit though. We need to find a water source, in case it doesn't rain." Once again, her conviction was enough to turn most of them around. They started moving after a few quick words of luck. Wells stayed standing there, looking at her like she was a different person; and he was right.

"How did you do that?" He asked. "You knew exactly what to do, you killed something Clarke!"

That's the least of the things I've killed, she thought to herself. "Take the deer back Wells, We'll talk more when I get back." She tried for a reassuring smile, "Just save me a good bit, okay?"

He just shook his head, mouth open. He wasn't buying anything. "No, Clarke! You just killed something, and you didn't bat an eye, and before, on the drop ship, you said it was you father that got himself killed. What the hell is going on with you!?"

"I don't know!" She yelled. She'd had enough, she just wanted a few moments to think, so she could try and track her lies and figure out her next move. "I don't know what's going on Wells! But I know you didn't sell out my Father, that was my Mother's fault! I do know that!" He looked shocked, but somehow relieved, he could stop letting her believe it was his fault. "Just take the deer back, Wells. I just- I need to think, and someone needs to find water. I'll be back before morning." She had deflated a bit, by the end of it, and now he just looked sad.

He nodded solemnly, "Okay, but you have to promise to talk to me, when you get back, okay?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose, frustrated. "Fine." She turned on her heel and strode off through the woods, raking her hands through her hair and desperately trying to gather her thoughts.

She headed to the river, trying to be loud and not attempting to hide her movements at all. She made a show of standing ankle deep in the water and splashing about until the river snake arrived, to which she promptly scurried out. After that she put her boots back on and made like she was making a rope. All this may have been unnecessary, but she had no other way of knowing what had captured Jasper's attacker's attentions last time. Part way through constructing her rope she thought she'd pinpointed the position where the grounder- no Trikru warrior had been hiding last time, and she started sneaking towards that location.

Every step was placed softly and carefully, making for a slow pace, but she soon found herself staring at the back of a crouched form, that was looking out towards the river. She had her gun out, in case thing went south, but she'd only take out a leg and then patch him up if he tried something. She stood up straight and deliberately cocked her gun.

The man spun about at the sound of the click. He raised his spear with widened eyes and Clarke had to act quickly. "Whoa whoa whoa!" She raised her hands in submission and let the gun hang from one finger. "I didn't come to hurt you, just to talk."

He paused halfway through his strike and managed to halt its progress. He stopped and stared at her intently through his mask. He was breathing heavily, clearly shocked at her arrival. He was studying the trees around her, trying to discern whether she was the only one, and how she'd snuck up on him in the first place.

"We don't want a fight, we just crashed here, none of us wants a fight." She slowly lowered the gun and placed it on the ground. The warrior before her seemed to be assessing her words, but abruptly remembered that he was supposed to pretend he couldn't speak English. It was standard operating procedure for Trikru warriors, so that they can gather as much information on the enemy as possible.

He seemed done with gathering information though. His eyes hardened and he raised his spear to strike her down. Clarke sank down, defeated. That was it then. She'd thought that maybe things were starting off well.

His spear was coming rapidly towards her chest, and she was so preoccupied with her inevitable death that she didn't register a fast moving object fly right by her ear. The warrior's momentum abruptly changed directions and his spear hand was driven back, slamming against the tree beside him. He was pinned there.

The warrior looked more shocked than when Clarke had snuck up behind him. His eyes shot around at all angles, looking for the one responsible for putting him there. Then, they finally settled onto the hilt of the small knife, pressed tightly against his skin, but not wounding him. It went through the leathers of his arm, and when he focused on the knife's hilt, he froze.

He took a few shaking breaths and preceded to try and rip himself free. He didn't move to unpin the blade from his clothes; he just tugged at it, becoming more frantic with each pull. When he did unpin himself he stumbled onto the ground and held his torn sleeve like he'd been burnt. He scrambled to his feet, still looking at the trees around him. He swallowed heavily before settling his eyes back on Clarke.

Clarke was at a miss. Her own heart was beating in her chest. Someone had just saved her life, and this guy was acting like he'd seen a ghost. The warrior before her seemed to forget himself. "What do you want?" it seemed a more complex question than Clarke had an answer for.

"W-, " She was uncertain what to say "We just want to live; in peace, if possible." Their eyes were locked, trying to find answers in each other. "Tell your leaders that we don't want any trouble."

He said nothing. Slowly, he tore his eyes from her and searched the trees once more. Finding nothing he warily retrieved his spear, and started backing away from her, retreating into the trees.

Clarke remained stunned, and in place for a handful of heartbeats, before she too started searching the trees. Someone had been watching them.

After several moments of nothing, she started to calm down; she retrieved her gun and wandered towards the tree, with a small knife driven deep in its trunk. The blade was of a dark, rippling metal, hilt wrapped in dyed, dark, _dark_ blue leather. Two carved lines on the small pommel created a curved 'V' shape, the indents of the carving turning up a blood red.

The warrior had recognised the throwing knife from somewhere, and it looked to be bad news. She left the knife where it was and took one last look out at the trees before heading back in the direction of the drop ship. She had one more stop to make before she returned though.

Clarke walked swiftly this time. Once again, after a long trek through the woods the found her feet taking their own direction. Hours passed and she found her way seamlessly through the dark until she stood on the threshold.

Taking one purposeful step, she entered the Glade and felt her worries melt away once more. At this moment, she wanted nothing more than to lie down with her feet in the still, crescent shaped pool, and snack on sweet red berries. Coming further into the Glade's confines she looked over at the berry bushes, and found herself disappointed. The plant only held hard green beads, berries not ripe and half of them not yet growing at all.

She supposed that was the trouble with going back through time.

Clarke sat down and listened. Once again she felt the attentions of the ancient trees turned towards her, but this time they all seemed expectant; it was as though they finally agreed on something, and now expected her do make the next move. Weary as she was from sleepless nights and the stresses of today, Clarke once again, found nothing of their attentions strange. Instead, her eyes moved pointedly to the very center of the clearing, to the spot inside the pools crescent. There she saw something sticking upright, out of the dirt. She crawled towards the middle, wondering what had grown there, but shuffled more quickly as its shape sharpened into view.

A sword was driven into the dirt. Its sheath lay on the grass perfectly aligned in front of it. Her heart beat faster as she knelt before it. It was a long, single edged sword. The end near the hilt had three gaps in its centre, with the bottom looking slightly serrated. The handle itself was made of tones of grey and silver; the colours formed a pattern that looked strong and powerful.

It was Lexa's sword.

* * *

 **AN:** And so the first chapter is complete. Thanks for reading.

Don't assume too much is all I'll say. The things she's trying to change are looking like they'll be sucessful, but what other plans does Clarke have in mind?

But yes, I'll keep writing, I still have so much planned for this, I hope people are starting to wonder where things could go, I'd love to hear theories, or questions or anything really. Let me know what you think.

Once again, thanks to everyone who favorited and followed; and to you, for reading.

-Kama


	3. Chapter 2

**AN:** Hello!  
Do you guys know what happens when I ignore all of my real world responsibilities? I write things faster!  
I thank you all for reading, favorite-ing (?No present tense?) and following this story so far; and thanks heaps to everyone who reviewed. I love hearing your feedback. You've all been a real inspiration in getting this chapter out so quickly.

Also, I received a couple of Anon reviews: Thanks a bunch to Laura, we will find out soon.

Also to 'guest' thanks for reading.

And I couldn't reply to Avid Reader 2015, thank you for reading, I'm glad you like it so far, I grinned like a child when I read your message.

Please enjoy X)

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

Clarke Griffon neared the campsite of the Hundred, with a sword strapped to her right side. The sun kissed the eastern horizon, but Clarke was not surprised to hear the campsite well before she saw it. The kids were dancing around a dwindling fire, shoving each other and laughing. Some were dozing on another's shoulders. They were happy.

When the first of her people noticed her presence, they cheered. She had given them the best meal of their lives. They came up to her one by one, slapping her on the back and thanking her; some of them relayed her shots like it was an epic battle. Others commented on the Sword at her hip, but they didn't seem to realise what it meant. Eventually, Wells broke through the crowd. He looked like he'd just woken up, but he held out a large piece of cold meat to her. "Had to fight tooth and nail to keep that safe."

She accepted it gratefully and the others cheered again, making her crack a smile through her weary features. They settled down soon after, and went back to their dozing, or dancing.

She peeled pieces of the meat off in strips, and nibbled on them while Wells' stare burned at her side. "So, you find what you were after?" He nodded to the sword at her hip, and she clutched at it possessively.

"There's a river of fresh water, about four miles that way. Don't get in it though, there's a crazy river snake thing that tried to eat me." Wells just frowned at her; she knew that wasn't what he was asking. She only swallowed her words and told him to follow her. She went to find Bellamy. As they walked she asked him how things went here at camp. Murphy and Mbege had approached him angrily, but Bellamy had diffused them. He'd gotten them to coordinate the tent construction, and they were given first pick as prize. No one had taken off their wrist bands yet. Clarke had been right when she'd thought to delay Bellamy's plans. Wells also said that he and Bellamy had talked some, that the unofficial leader of the Hundred's more rowdy members, listened to what he had to say and yelled at a few kids that tried to get aggressive at him because of his father. She nodded thoughtfully at this news.

They'd started making tents out of the scraps from the drop ship and the parachutes. Upon request, the young Jaha directed her to Bellamy's.

She called out at the entrance, knowing he had started off the type to have company. She heard him call for her to wait, and two girls exited the tent, getting dressed as they went. Clarke watched them leave before turning back to the tent.

Bellamy did not look pleased to be disturbed, and she couldn't blame him. Roma and Amanda were both lovely girls.

 _But down to business,_ she thought to herself. She unstrapped the sword from her waist and held it out to him. He grabbed for it, but she didn't let go. "That one's mine, for now. You got that?" She released the blade and he inspected it. He looked a mix of fear and confusion.

"Where'd you get this?"

"It doesn't matter. What does matter is that there are other people on the ground, and they know how to use weapons. We need to tell everyone; and our first instinct can't be to attack them."

He shoved the sword back towards her roughly "And why the hell wouldn't we attack the armed savages?"

She didn't answer for a moment. She spent a few seconds re-strapping the blade to her waist and trying to calm down. "You don't know that they're savages. And they probably assume the same of us. Unless you want a war on your hands Bellamy, we need to talk to these people." He was thinking it over, trying to be reasonable. But Bellamy Blake was unimpressed at how much Clarke was ordering him around. She saw this and tried to think of something to diffuse the situation. She pulled out the gun and handed it to him. "Thanks for letting me borrow this, by the way. We'd all be hungry if you hadn't." He only shook his head as he took the gun.

"Tell your people, that if they see someone, not to engage. Please."She asked it sincerely.

Wells stood by her looking tense and uncomfortable. He backed her up anyway. "There's no reason we need to fight these grounders. I'm betting they have a lot more people than we do, and it'll only hurt us in the long run."

Because the grounders hadn't attacked them maybe, Bellamy actually looked to be thinking of this as an option. The tense knot in Clarke's shoulders started loosening, relaxing just a bit. Onto the next problem then.

"We need to contact the Ark." She pulled out a piece of paper with a list of names on them. "Gather these people and meet us in the drop ship, I'll need Monty too, I didn't write him down. I'll give you the plan once we're all there." There were nine names on the list. Wells was one of them, but he clearly didn't need to be rounded up. He held his tongue this time though; content to wait until everyone was gathered.

She needed to sleep, but this needed to be taken care of first. Hopefully it wouldn't take too long. They moved to the top level of the ship to wait.

"We should not, wake up before the sun, guys." Monty blearily commented as he climbed the ladder a little later. Jasper was following behind him, as expected.

Clarke was still trying to sort through the myriad of emotions flowing through her, about the people around her, but she delayed them once again, in favour of getting the job done. There'd be time for a break down later. "Sorry Monty, but we need to do something, now. The comm.'s are down and we need to let them know we're okay."

As the other's started filing in she talked with Monty about his part of the plan. Wells sat, listening and trying to figure out the big picture.

Finally the last of them entered the room, and Bellamy shut the hatch behind him. Inside were Clarke, Wells, Monty, Jasper, Bellamy, Finn, Sterling and Atom; She'd also gathered a few people she didn't really know, Elizabeth Grace, Amanda Amour, Ellie Sheppard, Robert Stanhope and Eddy Lafont were there as well. They all looked confused as to why they were present, but Amanda looked particularly displeased; this being the second time Clarke had interrupted her tonight.

The young Griffon looked at Bellamy, inviting him to start. He hadn't been told why they were here, but he was smart enough to guess. Clarke had been right to assume that he'd figure things out, just by looking at the list of names she'd given him. She was curious to see how much he'd tell them though.

"The Ark is gonna run out of air." He started. Clarke wasn't expecting that.

"There's nothing they can do, except come to the ground. That's why they sent us. But comm.'s are down, and we need to let them know we're okay. You, lucky kids have been gifted with first names starting with letters we need.

"Wells, Ellie. Amanda, Robert, Elizabeth. Sterling, Atom, Finn, Eddy." He said, looking pointedly at each of them in turn.

"We are safe..." Jasper spelled it out for them.

"I think they got that part genius." Monty nudged him in a friendly manner.

Bellamy nodded to Clarke, who had been encouraging him, confirming his suspicions as he talked, so he wouldn't look the fool if she'd planned something else. She took the reins from here though.

"Those bracelets on your wrists are recording and sending your vital signs to the Ark. If we take them off, they'll most likely think that we're dying. That said, this is the only way to communicate with them for now. As you take them off, Monty's going to try and reverse engineer them to talk to the Ark properly. If that doesn't work, at least they know we're safe. Any questions?"

Everyone just shook their heads. Looking around the room though, she could see that some people were uncertain.

"You- Do you really think this will work? Or are they just going to think we're dead?" It was Robert asking the question. Clarke remembered that he'd gotten caught in the vents without jurisdiction. He was retrieving his two year old neighbour, who had run off scared. They put him in the skybox for helping a little girl.

"There's no way to know for certain." It was Bellamy again. With a bit of luck, she was cementing his place as leader here, and they could bypass all that nonsense about being abandoned and taking things on alone. "There's a whole bunch of genius minds on the ark, someone's going to figure it out eventually."

The faces in the circle looked a little more at ease, and Clarke was reminded of the Bellamy that volunteered to go into the mountain to save their people. He was a better man than anyone gave him credit for.

The next few days passed quickly, and things started down a better path. Monty had fried the first two bracelets, but he sent the 'We' of their message up successfully. Clarke kept an eye on him, it was unlikely he'd succeed this time, when everything had gotten fried the last. Nothing had changed on his end. She tried to prompt him, tried to get him to ask more questions about how they worked and if they were networked together somehow; but Clarke just didn't have the knowledge.

Clarke went and got some more rest while the young engineer worked.

He successfully took the fifth bracelet off 'alive' and someone sent for Clarke. Before trying anything with that one, she asked him to remove the rest, so their message could be completed.

He had five 'live' wrist bands to do with as he pleased, and Clarke waited with baited breath to see if he could turn it into a working communication device. When nothing new was forthcoming she went about business in the camp.

Several hours later, the bracelets hadn't died, but neither had Monty Green been able to do much with them. She knew it didn't matter that much, Raven would come down in a week or so, and she could wait at the landing zone for her. But she did wondered what she could do if she were able to talk to them now. She could tell them that the Exodus ship would be taken over, that they could get to the ground in the Ark, that and a dozen other little things that could help them up there.

The rest of the day was spent organising people with Bellamy. They started to get a rhythm going. They recognised together, who would respond better to whom. Bellamy ordered his militia about, and Clarke directed the others, that didn't approve of his more aggressive nature.

She still worried about him though. He wasn't convinced that Jaha was alive. She was almost certain that the only reason he hadn't started taking off everyone's wrist bands, was because he hoped Monty would be successful in making a two way communication with the space station above. Then, he could prove Clarke wrong, and use his loyal militia to do whatever he wanted, and take the camp into his own hands.

Small hunting parties were sent out, with crudely made spears and knives. She directed them to areas she knew wouldn't be as likely to be watched by Trikru, and no one was to go too far away from camp. Everyone that went out, was under strict orders to retreat, exactly the way they'd come, if contact was made. No one was to engage. She showed them the sword she'd found, told them that no weapon would be crafted like this, if the people making them didn't know how to use them. They were out gunned, so to speak.

But no one was successful with the use of such rudimentary weapons.

Then Clarke 'stumbled' upon a pair of working rifles. It was their fourth day on the ground now and she gave one gun, with one spare magazine to Bellamy Blake. She kept the other. The conditions for his use of the rifle were that it was never to be raised against another human being. Not grounder and not someone of the Ark.

They got more food that day. All morning was spent hunting. A couple others had gathered some berries and nuts; they'd taken down another, smaller deer, a rabbit and a bird. They made a smoke house and started stocking things up, counting resources and rationing.

She was standing next to Bellamy and he was bragging that he'd shot a rabbit and the deer, while she assured him that her deer, on the first day, was much larger than his, _and_ she'd taken it down with a handgun. This banter reminded her of the quick bursts of calm that they'd experienced last time round. She was reflecting that it was much quieter so far.

Atom jogged up to them, he nodded to her, and then addressed Bellamy. "Pascal and Trina are missing." And that was it. Nothing else was said, but Clarke's illusions of a peaceful world were shattered. Last time, Pascal and Trina had died in the acid fog.

She stood frozen, thinking of everything else that could go wrong, everything else she could have overlooked. Bellamy ordered a search party and headed out, taking his rifle with him. He gave Clarke nothing more than a passing glance before he set out.

"I've got it!" Monty yelled excitedly from inside the drop ship. She gathered her thoughts for a moment and approached where he stood, dancing from foot to foot at the ship's entrance. "I figured out how to bypass the networking between the life sign monitors and tap into the Ark's radio frequencies. We'll only be able to send Morse code messages for now, but I think, with enough time, and a little bit of direction, I can rig it up with the drop ship mainframe and get us audio."

She needed this good news. "So you've made contact then?"

"No, I was waiting for you." He ran over to his work bench and gestured. "All I've gotta do is connect those two wires to make a circuit, and then we have a dot and or dash."

He was grinning like an idiot. She couldn't help but reflect this sentiment. They could talk to the Ark, then she'd go out on her own and get Trina and Pascal, she remembered where their bodies were found last time, she'd be able to follow their trail to some degree. "Well go on then."

Monty grasped the two wires and touched their ends together. There was a spark and a sharp pop, and he flinched back. Clarke flinched at a pain in her wrist and looked down to find her own bracelet un-coupling.

Monty's own fell off and they looked at each other, horrified. She shook her head sharply and ran outside. All she found was dozens of teenagers rubbing sore wrists and an equal number of bracelets lying forgotten on the ground.

 _No, this can't be happening, w_ as all she thought before running off into the woods.

She was gasping when she finally came to a stop and sank to her knees. Last time they'd fried the bracelets nine days in, not four. This wasn't enough time for Raven to fix up the escape pod; the ark would think that they're all dead. It was all her fault because she'd tried to change things.

Her hands had been clutching either side of her head but she dropped them to her sides when tears started to fall. Her right hand came into contact with the sword's hilt, still strapped at her waist.

 _Lexa's Sword_ she thought _She's out there somewhere_. She let her thoughts wander now. Had she done something horrible in taking Lexa's sword? Was that- that- _The_ Glade, was it a sacred site? Had she desecrated something by being there? She could certainly understand why anyone could be lead to assume it was a special place. Clarke herself was very much certain that it wasn't ordinary.

In fact, she thought, it was The Glade that had sent her here. She knew that now. It was a sudden light in the horrible darkness that this day had become. The three hundred people on the Ark, that will get floated to save them air. That was on her this time. But she knew now what had sent here back.

She clutched the sword hilt tighter in her hands. _Focus_. What did she need to take care of? What needed to be done? Her people were becoming self sufficient very quickly. The opportunity for her to go about her own business would arise soon enough. She had to find Lexa and convince her once again that she could heal the Reapers. The jammers on The Mountain needed to be taken out before exodus arrived, but it needed to look like Skaikru had nothing to do with it. Pascal and Trina needed to be saved. The acid fog would come around soon. Charlotte- That little girl was scared, and Clarke was trying desperately to figure out a way to help her. So far, nothing had been forthcoming.

She needed an escape. Desperately.

Wiping the tears from her face, she set off to the Art Supply Store.

She wasn't sure when Finn had found it last time. She didn't know if he'd found it yet, but she'd grabbed a few sheets of paper and a pencil to give to Monty in case he needed to plan anything out. The sheet with the nine 'we are safe' names had been taken from there as well. But now, she just needed to draw.

Finding the bunker, she lit some candles, got out a set of drawing tools and put pencil to paper. She wasn't sure what she was drawing at first, but she slowly recognised the lines she'd been unconsciously forming, and quickened the pace just a little. It was the Pauna. The giant gorilla was mid leap, and a defiant form stood, sword ready, before it.

The defiant form turned into the Commander, part way through. She was in the full coat and armour, red sash draping from her shoulders. The angle of the drawing looked as though the beast was about to leap right atop her sword. The sword hanging off her hip right now. She became lost in the drawing, but felt much better at its completion.

After that she dragged shelves as far out of the way as she could, and ran through some fighting sequences. The space was confined, in a way the skybox wasn't, but Lexa had commented to her once that if you can move, then you have enough room to fight in. You just need to set your feet differently. Rather than step into the kick, rapidly switch stances, and use the movement as a chamber back for a powerful kick; all the while remaining in one place.

She smiled wistfully at the memory. The Commander hadn't had much time to teach Clarke these things, rather leaving it to her subordinates, but this was a rare time she'd returned mid lesson and put Clarke's makeshift tutors on the ground. They'd proclaimed their stances were what she needed to replicate, though they weren't quite right. Lexa instructed her to widen the stance, rather than deepen it, cementing her centre of gravity.

That was the first time her breath had hitched from the closeness of her. Another was the lesson on horse riding; and again when the stoic Commander cracked a smile at the face she made eating their food, with all the flavour the sky people's cuisine had been lacking.

She restarted the sequence she'd gotten lost in. On the next repetition she tried to implement the sword. The moves were slow, and each strike or block with the weapon was purposefully placed. She started getting the hang of it after a few more goes.

Entirely adrift inside the pleasant ache of well used muscles, and the hypnotizing motions of the sword, she didn't notice the hatch to the bunker open. She was faced away from the hatch and continued working, oblivious to her observer. One slow sweeping strike brought head around and she stumbled, noticing the form that that was frozen at the bottom of the ladder.

"Nice moves, Princess." Finn was looking at her too intently. His eyes were sad, and he shifted from one foot to the other, unsure of what to do.

Clarke was in the same boat. "Finn. What are you doing here?"

He walked closer, as she sheathed the sword. "I found this place yesterday, I just-"he trailed off.

"I get that." She smiled gently. "I'll leave you to it." She tried to pass him, to leave him to his thoughts. He grabbed her arm to stop her going.

"You don't have to go." She looked from his hand on her arm, up to solemn eyes; eyes that were hurting. "They think we're dead, don't they?" She stepped out of his reach, but didn't move to leave again.

"We got our message off before hand, with a bit of luck someone up there'll figure out that they were fried accidentally." he was angry now. Shaking his head and clenching his fists.

"So that's it then? The only hope we have is 'with a bit of luck?!'" He shoved a shelf over. He moved towards another, before she intervened.

She grabbed his shoulder and shoved him back stiffly "Stop it."

"We're dead to them! Don't you get that?!"

This conversation was not going to end like it had last time. That was certain. But maybe she could use the same argument. She gave him the 'still hope' line and he retorted just like he had last time.

"We're not alone! There are a hundred other people on the ground here. Sure some of them may be assholes, but we're here together." She punctuated this with a shove to his chest. He stumbled back a step and his face soured at her words.

"You think Bellamy's gonna keep everyone in check, now that no one's coming to save us? You they'll just play along with your plans? You said that there are other people out there Clarke! Yet somehow, nobody but you has had any inclination that they exist!" He was trying to find someone to blame. "You're the one that told Monty to take those wrist bands off. This is your fault." He'd been yelling before, but his voice had dropped to a furious whisper.

 _Time to lie, then_. She thought to herself that this might be cruel, but it was all she had at the moment. "You know, I met your girlfriend once. Raven, right?" All the anger in him just bled away. "She seemed a stubborn type," He scoffed, "But the way Sinclair raved about her, she must've been a bloody genius." He was looking at his feet with a face coated in anguish. "I don't think she'd be the type to live and let go. Not without an answer. Do you?"

He swallowed once, and rubbed is hands at his eyes. "She'd rather blow up the Ark than take something like that lying down."

"Don't tell me I don't believe in hope." She put a hand on his shoulder and he gave her a guilty smirk "You got that Space Walker?" Half a laugh followed. She gave his shoulder a squeeze and moved to leave.

"Yeah, whatever Princess." He rebuffed.

"Now, I'm gonna check back at camp, then I'll go find Trina and Pascal. I won't tell anyone about this place if you don't." She climbed the ladder and made her escape.

When she got back to the drop ship, everything was eerily quiet. Heads turned her way and looked expectantly at her. Other's nodded to the drop ship. When she got close enough, Murphy tapped Mbege on the shoulder and he ran inside. Shortly after, Bellamy Blake exited, looked her way, and then turned back inside. He'd had a thunderous expression on his face. Clarke just rested her hand on the sword hilt at her side, trying to draw strength from it.

She steeled herself, and followed after him.

Inside to room on the top floor, Monty was looking weary, still working on the dead bracelets. Jasper sat beside him, looking glum. Octavia was against a wall, trying to make Bellamy forget she was there.

"You wanna tell me what's going on Clarke?" Bellamy spread his arms out, gesturing to everything. "You traipse around like you own the place, but everything you touch seems to break."

"Bellamy, I didn't fry the bracelets." Monty stiffened in the corner of her eye. "Neither did he, it was an accident."

"An accident huh? Just like you accidently found that sword; how you accidently found these rifles." She clenched her jaw. The rifle strapped to her back seemed to become heavier, and the pistol hidden at her back felt cold. No one knew she'd found a pistol, she would keep that secret for as long as she could. When she didn't answer right away, Bellamy continued. "Where'd you get the guns Princess? These aren't the only ones, are they?"

She raised her chin defiantly. "No, they weren't; but I'm not giving any one else a gun unless they prove themselves."

"Prove what? That their working for the council? You knew where those guns were, you know I-" Caught himself quickly. "Your councillor mother told you everything you'd need to know, and you've kept all that information to yourself. You're here to spy on us, to keep us as good little pets." Everyone in the room waited, scared to breath. "What else aren't you telling us?"

It was a dare. He was trying to get a rise out of her. Maybe looking for an excuse to take her out of the picture. Though she hoped he'd be beyond that last part, she wasn't ignorant enough to think it hadn't crossed his mind. "Give us a minute, would you guys? O?" She looked at the boys and then Octavia in turn.

They shuffled away from them like they were toxic, and shut the hatch behind them. "You know, my mother killed my father. She's the reason he got floated." Time again for the lies that hurt because they were so close to the truth "You think I'd do anything she wanted me to? You think I'd spy on these people, _my_ people, for _her_?

"No, Bellamy. I know a lot of things. The people up _there_ , they didn't teach me shit. I know you shot Jaha, I know he's alive, I know Shumway told you to do it, so you could get on this ship, and look after O; and I know that Diana Sydney is the one that put Shumway up to it in the first place."

Bellamy's eyes flickered through, shock, confusion, anger and fear, in quick succession before finally settling on some mix of all four. He opened his mouth to ask her how, but she cut him off.

"It doesn't matter. Pascal and Trina are missing, and in a few hours, Mount Weather is going to send down a cloud of acid fog that will kill them, unless we can get them back here in time." His expression didn't change. "I told you before Bellamy, the only thing I want here, is to keep everyone alive. Is that a problem for you?"

He shifted his gaze to the gun on her back, the sword at her hip and then back to cold blue eyes. He shook his head once, just slightly.

"You're not a murderer Bellamy, and the people of the Ark _will_ forgive you, if they make it to the ground. For now though, we've got to make do with what we have."

He shrank back a little. "What do you want me to do?"

"Lead them. Sooner or later, things down here will go south. When they do, they'll need someone here that can make the best decision for the group."

He looked scared now, and unsure. "I thought you wanted to do that?"

She gave a bitter laugh. "No. I don't want to lead anyone. I will if I have to though. But there are grounders out there. Someone needs to find out who they are. We can't keep ignoring them, hoping they'll go away."

"So you're leaving then?"

"Not yet. There are still a few things that need to be taken care of. But eventually, yes. I will leave." A heavy silence fell between them, each searching the other for something they wouldn't quite find. Not yet. "Take care of them for me; when I do go, that is."

He nodded "Okay. But that isn't everything, is it? I've seen the way you look at some of them Clarke, like you know them, like- I don't know, like you've lost them already, or something. Just- You don't have to tell me what it is; just tell me I'm missing something." The air felt heavy in the silence that followed.

"You are." She finally said. "Everyone is. I'm just, not sure if anyone will ever get it back." He looked more confused now than before he'd asked. She supposed she wasn't supposed to use his metaphor literally, but in this case it was quite apt. "I'm gonna take O with me to find the others, just so you know.

He nodded begrudgingly. Clarke had managed to repel his overprotective nature towards his sister a number of times. Octavia was growing faster this way, without openly having to rebel against him. She hadn't pursued anything with Atom, but instead went out in hunting parties. From what Clarke had heard, O was the only one that had come even close to catching anything with a spear. She kept the thing nearby whenever she was outside the drop ship, and had vowed not to miss next time.

As she went to find Octavia, Clarke wondered just how many times she's be forced in to conversations like that, with her older brother. She had a feeling she'd need to convince him again and again. Nothing would stick until Bellamy made his own mistake.

The two women hiked through the woods, chatting about the small luxuries on the ground. They spoke of the sweetness of the air and the space. Octavia had found Clarke to be a kindred spirit for her love of the ground so far. All she wanted to do was explore, to run until she reached the edge of the earth, to bask in her freedom. Clarke too had felt chained on the Ark, she couldn't compare to Octavia's situation of course, but O could see the other girl loved it here as much as she did. It was the way they both look outwards, looking as far as they could, like the ground held all the answers they could ever need.

They talked about the food, though there had been rations here just as much as on the Ark, that slop up there, it couldn't compare to the juicy meat of that deer on the first night; and the sweet nuts, roots and berries they'd collected since held their own luxury.

O seemed to know that Clarke was troubled, most days. She'd try and distract her, and when that didn't work, invite her to talk. Clarke found herself learning more about the little things in Octavia's life than she had last time. The sky Princess told the little warrior about her life on the Ark, it seemed an age ago, about she told about her father, and playing Chess with Wells. Clarke never told O why she was troubled though.

"You didn't sleep last night did you?" She asked the blonde. As the older girl looked pointedly at her boots, avoiding the question, Octavia prompted "What do you dream of that makes you pass up sleep altogether?"

Clarke immediately saw a series of faces, all belonging to innocents inside the mountain. They burned at the back of her eyes. She took a deep breath and told O that it didn't matter. She didn't look pleased at being shut out.

"I hope you and my brother didn't kill each other." She gave Clarke a hesitant smirk. It was a smile Clarke new well, and it generally meant O was up to no good. She chuckled at the memories.

"No, not quite. Sorry, it was a bit tense there."

"He's an idiot for thinking you're working for the Ark. You were the one who protested loudest about to going to Mount Weather." They both nodded, and O left the floor open for Clarke to talk, but she silently declined. O sighed "I don't know why you know all the shit that you do Clarke, but I know you want to do what's best for us."

Clarke nodded to herself "Thanks," was all she said out loud.

"No, thank you." Clarke looked up, eyebrow cocked in query, "Thanks for keeping Bell off my back. I know he's been a pain, but you've handled his special kind of stubbornness well. Thanks; for having my back." The blonde had a stupid grin on her face now. "What?" Octavia asked with suspicion.

"Are you sure it's not a Blake kind of stubbornness, rather than a Bellamy one?" She gave the question half a second to be processed before sprinting off. O dropped her spear and ran after Clarke's quickly retreating form. They laughed and ran, and it ended with the both of them calling a stale mate as they weaved through a series of trees and the both of them were clutching their stomachs, laughing, and trying to catch their breaths. O went back and got her spear. Then the two of them continued on their way.

Clarke caught a pair of clumsy tracks some several miles from camp. She followed them about, carefully; while Octavia kept her head up and an eye out for danger. At the sound of voices, Clarke gestured her friend to silence and they proceeded through the trees carefully, heading towards the voices until they recognised them as the missing Pascal and Trina. She called out their names, and a series of lout footsteps and breaking branches brought the lost two into view.

Trina was almost hysterical at the sight of them. She flew forward and latched O in a hug, quickly swapping to do the same to Clarke. She jabbered on for a while, saying they'd saved their lives. Pascal shook his head and claimed that he knew they'd be fine, but asked them if they had any water or food. Clarke handed them a makeshift water skin and some smoked meat.

The four of them headed out, back towards camp. They mostly kept to themselves this trip. The two rescue-ees were clearly tired and seemed glad just to head home.

Then a deep bellowing horn echoed through the air. The war horn that announced the arrival of the acid fog.

Clarke stopped in her tracks. They were still nearly five miles from camp. The Art Supply Store was a mile in the wrong direction. She didn't know where to go.

"Clarke? What does that mean? You look like you know what that means." Octavia was trying to get her attention. But her heart was pounding in her chest, and she was just trying to _think_. Her hand went to her hip, gripping the sword there.

There was only one place that they could run. It was absolutely not a good idea. But it was the only one she had. "Run!" she said and took off, "Follow me, _and don't fall behind_." She heard three sets of feet follow after her, as she ran towards the mines. As she ran towards the Reaper tunnels.

One foot stumbled after the other, over tree roots and fallen leaves. "Don't stop, we're almost there." She called behind her to the others.

"Clarke!" Octavia yelled, and she turned her head to see the great yellow cloud rolling towards them, she turned back and quickened her pace. "Look there!" Octavia called again, but they didn't have enough time.

"Just keep going!" and she kept running. Finally the entrance to the mines came into view. "There." She pointed. She didn't stop until she got to the entry way.

She turned around, gasping. Trina was dragging Pascal, limping towards her. A colder kind of panic rose to her chest, as she searched the trees, looking for the other member of their party. "Octavia!" She yelled, but couldn't spot her. "Octavia! Over here! Where are you?!" Trina and Pascal had made it to the cave mouth. They started hobbling further in as Clarke stayed at the entrance. "OCTAVIA!" she was screaming now. This couldn't happen! She'd done so well so far. O had been right behind her. "OCTAVIA!" The fog was just feet away from where she stood. She took reluctant steps backward, retreating. "OCTAVIA!" She couldn't hear any screams, did that mean she was safe? All she could hear was her rapid heartbeat in her ears.

The fog was closing in, and she continued retreating into the cave. She was struggling to breathe, her eyes stung, she couldn't hear anything. "OCTAVIA!"

"Clarke, COME ON!" Trina yelled for her. All she could do was turn, and run further into the mines.

They ran around several corners, until they were thought the fog wouldn't seep in any further. When they stopped, Clarke buckled over and onto her hands and knees. O was gone. Octavia was gone. ' _This didn't happen last time.'_ It was the thought that repeated a thousand times inside her head, as if to console her. She gave one racking sob, before catching herself. They weren't out of danger yet. She spent the next several minutes trying to be silent, and then trying to control herself.

Pascal was sitting with his back against the wall, Trina was curled up beside him, head buried at his neck. She lifted her head slightly, when Clarke stood. Clarke took note of one teary eye and the way she clutched at Pascal's shirt. Did they know Octavia at all? Or was she scared, of how Clarke had reacted?

Clarke didn't know. She looked around. The only light source was coming from the small hand torch, beside Pascal. He must have had it on him all this time. Clarke picked it up and studied the walls around them.

They were bubbled, eroded in a curious fashion. "We need to keep moving." She said with a horse whisper. "Stay quiet." At a guess, the bubbling on the walls meant that the fog could seep in this far. She had no idea how far they'd have to go, to stay safe.

As they walked further in, Clarke saw an unlit torch in a bracket in the wall; she paused, and lit it with the flint in her pack. The flickering red light guided them onwards for another couple minutes, until the walls of the cave became smoother, and untouched by acid. There they waited.

After a time, Pascal clearly became bored. He started throwing pebbles at the wall across from him, and each one echoed. Clarke had been spaced out, thinking of what she'd tell Bellamy; as such she didn't notice his actions until he'd been doing it for a while. When she did realise, she jumped up from the floor and grabbed his wrist, whispering that they needed to be quiet, or he was going to get them killed.

Maybe she had a crazy look in her eyes, or maybe he realised that they might not be the only ones hiding from the acid fog; either way, he listened. She was glad of that.

But she'd told him off too late.

A wailing started off in the distance, and they could see torch light there as well. Clarke snuffed the fire on her torch out, and then snatched up Pascals little hand held light. "Get up, start moving back the way we came. Stay behind me."

They slowly made their way backwards, trying to be as silent as possible, until Trina gasped and yelped, quietly.

"Go back, ow, the fog." She spoke as quietly as she could, but Clarke looked over shoulder at the lights. They were getting closer. They had no choice but to head closer to the Reapers. Either that, or bet burnt alive by acid fog. She remembered Atoms gasping, blinded form and opted for something she could fight, head on.

She led the other two slightly further in and told them once again, to stay behind her. She couldn't use a gun here. If she did, every Reaper in the Mountain would come running at the noise; and she didn't have enough bullets for all of them. She took the rifle off though, leaving it, and her pack, with Pascal. She made absolutely sure that he wasn't to fire it, unless she either went down, or one got passed her. If that happened, they were to run and hide as soon as they got a moment.

She put her back to them. Pascal had a sprained ankle, and Trina was sporting acid burns. Clarke drew the sword from its sheath, wishing desperately that its owner was beside her. She set her feet, in the strong stance Lexa had shown her.

The Reapers came closer. She felt the adrenaline running through her veins. She gripped the sword tighter. When the first Reaper came into view, he stopped and squinted at her form in the shadows, trying to see. It took him only a moment for to recognise her as a person, and then he screamed. It was a horrible, shrieking war cry as he started to charge towards her. She would not go down without a fight. She would not loose anyone else today.

* * *

 **AN:** Another chapter down. Clarke really just wants things in camp to go smoothly, so she can run off with her sexy Commander girlfriend. Poor Clarke.

Sorry about the cliff hanger (sometimes I just enjoy being a little evil) but this was the most dramatic place to finish the chapter.

Once again, let me know what you think. Things will continue to deviate from the known path as we go, let me know your theories and queries.

I will say though, that I've gotta play catch up on a bunch uni work, so the next chapter might take a little longer (unless I ignore all the shit I have to do again, like I did this week. Idk, we'll see how it goes).

Thanks for reading

-Kama


	4. Chapter 3

**AN:** Hi!

I apologise that this chapter has taken so long. I wish I could say that the next one won't take as long, but real life has been and continues to be a piece of shite lately, at least in terms of free time.

I want to give a huge thanks to everyone that's clicked the favourite, follow and review buttons. It means a lot that someone out there is interested in reading something I've written.

As always, I am avidly open to feedback.

Anon Reviews:

Thanks a heap to Amy, I'm glad you like it so far.

And an extra massive shout out to "Guest" I now have Griffin written on a note above my computer so I don't get it wrong again. Also thanks for the tips on nicknames in character thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 3:**

The Reaper charged at her, arms flailing. As he drove forwards, he threw his torch to the ground before her, allowing the both of them to see. Clarke heard screams and shuffling footsteps further behind the one charging. This one had one crude, curved sword in his right hand, and he swung it in a wide arch, aiming for her head. She stepped around him, ducking under the blade and bringing Lexa's sword up, from left to right.

She felt the blade catch on the Reapers armour. It skidded across a metal plate on his chest, vibrating up through her arms, before biting into the softer leathers under his arm. She couldn't tell if she'd gotten through the leathers.

Now they stood across from each other; facing cave walls rather than the cave's running direction. She had to keep glancing to her right, to see if there were more Reapers coming, but it looked like it was just them, for now.

The Reaper shrugged off the blow, grunting and shaking his limbs out as he faced Clarke once again. He was blinded by a rage, his movements had none of the precision she'd come to expect from the Trikru warriors. He charged again.

The Reaper blade came straight down, she sidestepped, parrying left handed and shoving him back with her right. He stumbled into the wall and Clarke circled around so she was looking down the cave towards the other Reapers once again. Looking there, she could hear screams and the sound of steel striking steel, like they were fighting each other. Clarke was just glad they hadn't swarmed her yet.

Her dancing partner had regained his feet and she felt more nervous now than before. She was not fool enough to think she'd held him off this long with any form of skill. She'd been lucky so far. Over the Reaper's shoulder she saw two limp forms fly into view from around the corner. They hit the floor, and did not get back up.

Maybe they were killing each other. Once again, the one before her charged swinging his blade back and forth. She dodged, one, two, three strikes before she saw an opening and dived at him. She slammed her shoulder into his gut. Said shoulder connected painfully with the armour plating there and she cried out. The force of the impact drove them back and he dropped his sword.

Clarke stood up straight now, breathing heavily and clutching her left shoulder. Lexa's sword was held loosely in her left hand. She reflected darkly that it would not be much use if she couldn't raise that arm.

The Reaper ran at her once more. She groaned as she tried to lift the sword against him, but he merely slapped it aside, and it tumbled from her fingers. He hit her like a tonne of bricks. One armoured shoulder slammed her in the chest and directed her into the wall. Her head snapped back into the stone and white spots clouded her vision. She gasped for air, but two large, gloved hands came around her neck, cutting of her chances at getting any.

She was slower now, she knew that. Her movements were clumsy as the edges of her vision clouded, turning black. She clawed her hands down her attackers face, trying to catch an eye, or strike his throat and drive him off. He only stepped back, keeping her at arm's length, so she couldn't reach him.

Every moment that passed gave way to a new level of panic. She was choking, she couldn't breathe. She couldn't do anything. She wouldn't be able to save anyone. O was gone. Her vision was a mixture of black edges and white spots, and she felt like her head was about to float from her shoulders.

A small, blurred, shadowy figure ran up beside her attacker. She couldn't make out anything from them, and she was too far gone to wonder what other horrors a second Reaper could bring her.

This second figure however, reached up with one hand and grasped the hair of her attacker, yanking his head back. The other hand came around in a lightning fast motion, striking him once under his chin.

And Suddenly Clarke could breathe. She collapsed quite promptly, wheezing ragged breaths, clutching her bruised throat and wiping her watering eyes. She rolled onto her back, looking up towards the one that had saved her. All she could make out was a dark hooded form that retreated back towards where the other Reapers had been. She tried to call out but managed only a croak.

She stumbled messily to her feet, falling when she was half way up, and scrambling against the wall to aid her. She hobbled along the wall until she came across a sight that made her pause.

Spread out before her were roughly a dozen bodies, all still, and unmoving. All of them were dead.

Clarke blinked her eyes, trying to focus on the shadowy form going from one dead Reaper to the next. When she did, she discovered a small woman dressed from head to toe in midnight blue. Poking through the hooded coat, Clarke could see the woman wearing armour of a dark grey, rippling metal. She retrieved various knives and weapons from the fallen Reapers, stowing them away on her person.

Clarke moved up to the body closest to her. She knelt down carefully and saw a small throwing knife lodged in his throat. The blade was of the same dark, rippling metal as the armour the woman wore; its hilt was wrapped in dyed, dark blue leather. Two carved lines on the small pommel created a curved 'v' shape, the inside of the carving turning up a blood red. It was identical to the one she'd found lodged in the tree on her first day back. It was the same knife that made the Trikru warrior flinch away like he'd been burned.

Clarke heard footsteps approach her. She looked up into a pair of pale grey eyes poking out of her hood; eyes that flickered with the same fire reflecting from the torches that scattered the ground. Clarke could see dark war paint, on the woman's face. It shadowed each of her eyes, making their pale grey even more striking, before curving down in two lines either side of her nose. The lines grew closer as they went down, before breaking at her lips. Below the woman's mouth, the paint started one again, finishing the pattern, bringing it together as a curved 'V' upon her chin.

The woman didn't say anything; she only held Clarke's eyes for a moment before nodding, pulling the knife from the Reaper's throat, and then sliding it into a sheath on her right thigh. Then she stood, picked up one torch from the ground and started walking away.

"Wait!" Clarke called after her " _Who are you?!_ " because she didn't know. She'd done all of this before, but never had she seen the dark blue clad weapons, or this woman with colourless eyes and war paint that accentuated the sharp edges of her face. Clarke stumbled after her, but got no reply.

"What's going on?" this was out of her power, she had no idea what it was, her foreknowledge was useless here. Just as the words left her mouth, the woman moved. Or at least Clarke assumed that she must have moved. One second she was a half dozen paces in front of Clarke, and the next she was holding a knife to her throat. The move was so fast, and so calculated that Clarke's addled brain couldn't comprehend it at all.

The woman's eyes were wide, and angry. They flickered from Clarke's own to the stretch of cave behind them, making sure no one was watching. "You don't get to ask that! That's my question!"

She pushed Clarke back roughly, withdrawing the knife and vanishing it within her coat once again. "W- What's-" Clarke was about to protest, but the look this woman gave her was not to be defied. Clarke looked at her now, she really _looked_. Her saviour stood firm, and placed her feet purposefully when she stepped. Her eyes roved from one thing to the next with a calculated precision, analysing her surroundings for threats. This woman had taken out a dozen Reapers and didn't have a scratch on her. This woman was a warrior. She was also young, maybe a few years older than Clarke, maybe early twenties.

Clarke didn't know what to make of this woman; and she was in no condition to try and follow her to find out. The young warrior strode further into the darkness and Clarke was left to her own devices.

The acid fog would still be out there. There was still danger from reapers, if any had heard their scuffle. Pascal had a sprained ankle and Trina had minor burns that should be treated to prevent infection. Clarke checked herself over too. Her left shoulder hurt, but wasn't broken, or dislocated, just bruised. The same went for her ribs mostly, though breathing too deep sent strikes of pain up her side, so it was possible one of them was cracked. Gently touching the back of her head, revealed a large lump, and a cut that was still bleeding. She ripped off a piece of cloth from one of the Reaper's clothes and used her right hand to put pressure on it.

Her neck was very bruised. Breathing and swallowing hurt, speaking hurt more, but the fact that she could croak out legible words under strain, meant there wasn't significant damage to her vocal chords. Overall, she had survived a Reaper encounter, and that in itself was an achievement. The fact that she would walk away without permanent damage was almost a miracle.

She felt steadier on her feet now, so she shambled, rather than stumbled back to the others. When she rounded the corner, she heard the distinctive click of a rifle being cocked and threw her hands up as Trina shouted "Who's there?!" When Clarke croaked out a confirmation of identity, she dropped the rifle in favour for the flash light beside her. Clarke used the light to find Lexa's sword, and returned it to her side. She grabbed the torch that had illuminated her fight with the Reaper and slumped on the ground, next to the others.

The others profusely apologised for not helping. When she was being choked, Pascal was going to fire, until Trina reminded him that he was just as likely to hit Clarke as the grounder hurting her. She flinched at their use of the word 'Grounder.' It was a term that they'd used for the members of the twelve clans, but these were Reapers. They weren't the same. The other two recounted that they saw the other grounder kill the one that was choking her, but didn't know why.

Clarke tried to convince them that maybe the one that had saved them had been a good guy. Maybe things weren't as simple or black and white as they seemed. Maybe people were just as inclined to being people down here as they were up on the Ark. Her words fell on confused ears.

They weren't deaf to what she was saying exactly, but brought up on a number of occasions that one had almost killed her not moments ago; and that she shouldn't try and stick up for anyone that tries to kill you. The conversation went in circles, so Clarke changed the subject for a time, before bidding them be quiet again, in case more trouble arose.

After a couple of hours waiting, with no more Reaper attention, Clarke Griffin bravely wandered down the tunnels towards the way they'd entered. When no acid burns were forthcoming, she went back to collect a weary Trina and Pascal. They were good kids, Clarke figured that they had a fair bit of growing up to do, but the ground would force that out of them soon enough. She doubted that they'd run off into the woods quite so readily next time.

Upon entry to the outside world, Clarke discovered darkness. She tried to find their tracks entering the cave, but was unsuccessful with the limited light of their torches. She found no body, but she would not be able to find Octavia's tracks to confirm until morning came; and quite honestly, her battered body could use some rest. She prayed that Bellamy would already be asleep, and she could perhaps hold off his fury until she could find some closure for him.

The trip back to camp had Clarke's thoughts alternating between worry for Octavia and curiosity regarding the Warrior Woman from the tunnels. Something about the way she moved just struck Clarke as... not familiar exactly, but as, recognisable, perhaps. The midnight attire too, sparked something in the back of her mind, but she could address neither with any deduction.

Coming back to camp she found a few tired guards standing watch, one stood to collect Bellamy and tell him they'd returned, but Clarke protested, telling them to let him sleep. The weary guard, Eddie LaFont didn't seem to notice Octavia's absence at all.

Clarke led her two tired companions to an empty tent, and they said nothing more than thanks. Clarke herself found her own tent, inspected her battered body once more and then found the least painful position to sleep in.

She dreamed horrible dreams. After a few hours she woke up shaking with adrenaline and sweating with fear.

She got up, strapped on her weapons and walked the woods. She found a spot, away from the lights of the camp and sat, looking out at the trees towards where Octavia was lost. She felt so beaten. Her body was battered and hurting. Her bare few hours of sleep, had her wake up stiffer and in more pain than when she had first gone to bed.

She tried to think, but only became disturbed by the direction her thoughts would carry her. She got to her feet and slowly stretched out sore and tired limbs. Clarke gently tried to move her left shoulder when her eyes were drawn to the starry sky above. It looked like a shooting star.

She waited with baited breath. The last time she'd seen a 'shooting star' it had turned out to be an escape pod holding a stubborn mechanic. But the star merely streaked across the sky without falling to the waiting earth. Clarke watched it pass and wished that it was something else.

She spent the rest of the darker hours trying so gently loosen the stiff joints of her battered body, and running through fighting forms with care. Before the sun could kiss the horizon, she turned back to camp to collect some gear for the day. A water skin, a few rations, flint, extra mags for her rifle and pistol, rope, her makeshift first aid kit and a small makeshift tent. She walked back to the gates but stopped dead in her tracks at the sound of rising voices.

"You fell asleep at your post! You could've gotten us killed!"

 _Shit._ That was Bellamy yelling. He was probably yelling at Eddie, he had looked like he was at the end of his rope. Maybe she could slip around them while they were arguing. Clarke had the impulse to run in and defend the guard that was sleeping at their post. She needed to let Bellamy be respected, but she couldn't let him have free reign. _Pick your battles Clarke._ She clenched her jaw, but didn't move.

She could support what Bellamy was saying. Honestly, she wanted to. If the grounders were attacking like they were last time, she would have been with him completely. But there was peace so far, apart from the acid fog attacks from the Mountain. This was a different time. Did they need different consequences? These kids were going to have to grow up eventually, but should she let them have their peace while the world permitted it?

She walked towards the angry pair. Eddie was staring angrily at his feet while Bellamy Blake continued to abuse him for his misstep. She didn't know quite what she was going to do until she came level with them. "What's going on here?"

"He put us all at risk! He fell asleep at his post!" Bellamy was unusually angry. He opened his mouth to continue but Clarke interrupted.

"How long was your shift Eddie?" her tone was cold and methodical. The boy knew he wasn't off the hook, but he grasped at the little ray of hope that she was offering him.

He straightened his posture as he addressed her. "I've been here since midnight-" he stumbled on his words as if her were about to call her Ma'am. They both frowned at the pause, but he continued, "Before that I was on dinner duty, preparing the meat and distributing it in rations."

She glanced at Bellamy and he looked frustrated. He shifted from foot to foot, but said nothing.

"Sounds like a long day." Eddie let out a long sigh, relaxing in his place. He was halfway to saying thank you before Clarke cut him off. "Next time you've got a double shift that you don't think you can finish; you find someone to cover it. You'll go to sleep now, but you'll be on latrine duty for the rest of the week. Do you understand?"

He stiffened again. He opened his mouth and closed it a number of times, but couldn't think of anything to say. He looked warily at Bellamy, but the older boy just glared at him. He nodded solemnly and headed off towards his tent.

Clarke tried to take advantage of the open window, gaping in front of her. She wanted to run, and avoid all Bellamy's questions.

But she couldn't do it. She couldn't flat out lie to him, and she couldn't go behind his back. "You were hash to him." She said it softly, as though it was almost a question. He looked her square in the eye, and his eyes were filled with fury.

"Last time people didn't follow my orders, Trina and Pascal ran off and got my sister killed!" he shoved her in the chest. "You said you'd look after her Clarke!" his eyes were glossed over with tears, but they were still angry. "You brought those two back, and you left her behind!" He was screaming now. Clarke saw several others in her peripheral pop up and look at what was happening.

She was breathing heavily through her nose, clenching her jaw and resisting the urge to bite back at him. He stumbled back towards her and clutched at her jacket front. "Why? You said you wanted to keep us alive." He'd deflated now, desperate for an answer; desperate to know what Octavia had done to earn her betrayal.

Clarke was at her breaking point already. She'd been sick with worry about Octavia and sore and beaten down and sleep deprived. Her mask cracked for a moment, tears streaming down her face. "I didn't know. I-I thought I could- I thought-" she held back a sob and looked up to Bellamy again. He was crying now too. "I'm sorry," she managed to choke out. She hitched her rifle and pack further up her back. "I'll go find her Bell. I'll bring her back for you."

His eyes widened at her use of the nickname. He reached a shaky hand out to her shoulder, and gripped it tightly. He sniffed and wiped his sleeve across his eyes, then turned and called out, "Miller, can you do me a favour and grab my pack? We'll be just out the gate." the young militia guardsman nodded to him and ran off. Then Bellamy led Clarke outward.

"Pascal said some Grounders attacked you. Tell me what really happened."

Clarke chose her words carefully. When she recounted the tale, she made sure to express that the grounder had saved them, and the reapers had been the ones to attack. She lied a little, told him that the strange midnight woman had whispered the word under her breath. She made sure to imply that the grounder spoke another language and fit in as much as she could about the Trikru people.

He listened intently. She could tell he wanted to ask more about Octavia, but he refrained for now. Miller ran up to them, just as Clarke finished talking. Bellamy gave a few sharp words of instruction for the day to his friend, and the two leaders headed out.

They walked for a long time in silence. It was a heavy silence, filled with words unspoken. He eventually prodded the whole story out of her. He asked as many questions as possible about how his sister had split from the group and how much time passed before the acid fog consumed everything.

His face turned paler by the minute. Once the story was told, their heavy silence turned towards grief, but they kept walking.

Eventually they reached the mouth of the Reapers tunnels. Clarke could see her tracks from the previous day and retraced their steps. She found the place where Octavia had split off from the group, but her tracks led them into the underbrush, where Clarke lost her trail. She should have brought Finn; he'd be able to follow her tracks more easily.

They scoured the area. Eventually they stumbled across a hatch. There were no tracks per se, but the forest detritus had been recently disturbed, like someone had actively tried to hide their tracks.

Uncovering the hatch door, they found it to be a rough makeshift lid. Pulling it up revealed a hole big enough for a dozen people to stand abreast, but with roughly carved walls and no furnishing. It must be a safe house, made only to hide from the acid fog. There were no supplies, that they could see, and it was well hidden. The dirt floor had been beaten flat long ago, so they couldn't tell if Octavia had found safe haven here or not.

They clambered out of the hole and left it just as they found it. They both looked to each other and found only defeat in the other's eyes. They hadn't found a body, they hadn't found a sign of a struggle they had found tracks that led away, further than they could track. Clarke reoriented herself and found that she'd gotten a little bit turned around. The safe hole was closer to where they'd been running yesterday. It was closer than she thought.

She started feeling a small spike of hope. She made Bellamy stand where she estimated Octavia running off, and then she clambered back to the hole. He yelled confirmation. There was a line of sight when he ran back and forth along their tracks. It lined up pretty well with when Octavia vanished. It was highly likely that she'd found refuge in that hole.

From there, they kept looking for places the young Blake could have gone after the acid fog cleared. They found very little. There were animal tracks heading out in several directions, but if human tracks ran alongside them, neither of them could tell. They didn't know anything.

Finding no other options, Bellamy and Clarke continued to search the area in case Octavia hadn't made it to the refuge hole. Some time near midday, they gave up. They resigned themselves with the knowledge that Octavia must have made it through the acid fog alive. _Maybe_ , Clarke thought to herself, _maybe she got turned around and is headed back into camp right now._ Bellamy couldn't come up with a better explanation. The two of them were still obviously sick with worry. They talked very little and walked back towards camp at a brisk pace, both hoping to get back and find Octavia waiting for them. It was entirely possible that she'd waited until dawn to head back, so she could find her way more easily.

As they walked, Clarke was running through possible scenarios in her mind. She came to two different conclusions. Either Octavia was back at camp now, or she'd run into resistance on her way back. The Reapers hadn't followed Clarke out of the mines, but it was possible that Trikru had stopped playing nice. The cease fire that Clarke thought had been implied, appeared to be broken. She didn't want to have to fight them. She didn't want to have to burn two hundred of them in order to save her people. She would do it again though. She didn't want to, but much like the Mountain, she would do it again if they forced her hand.

A tense return to camp found a change of guards at the gate. Sterling and Monroe were at the gate and filled them in. There was no sign or sound of Octavia Blake. Miller had done a decent job organising the hunting parties, but when Wells had started delegating people to places, Murphy had caused problems. Bellamy ran off to deal with things, without a word to Clarke. The distance seemed to gape between them, and she suddenly missed the man who had grown to be her friend, in her other life. That seemed so far away now, she wasn't even sure it was possible.

The eyes of the others settled on her, and when she looked, they turned away in shame. They knew Octavia was gone, and that she'd vanished with Clarke present. Did they blame her? Did they think she'd failed? She knew she'd failed, but to have their eyes weigh on her, stacked atop the burdens she already bore.

She walked through the camp, trying to asses things. They were building a wall now. It was without the spikes that had been present last time, but the wall itself had been lower on their priority list. First had been tents, rain collectors and places to smoke and store meat and other food. They were building the wall just as high as last time. When they'd started plans for it, they only wanted to make it chest height. It would be enough to keep animals out of their tents and food stores unless the critters could climb trees. But Clarke had argued hard and loudly that animals were all that needed kept out for now, but the future could change. She managed to debate with Bellamy, Monty, Wells and Ellie Sheppard. The four others had eventually agreed to heed Clarke's words and the wall now had sturdy foundations, with sections reaching high above their heads. It was coming along nicely, and looked to be built better, with less pressure to get it done.

The success of the wall was largely due to Ellie Sheppard. Ellie had come from Mecha station and had studied architecture and engineering. Clarke hardly knew her last time. She's Glen Dickson's girlfriend. Last time Glen was one of the two that un-strapped their belts in the drop ship and died in the landing. Ellie had cut herself off from everyone when he'd died, and she'd joined him when Murphy was sent back as a bio-weapon. This time, she was flourishing. They had plans for actual buildings. They were going to make a community hall that could be lined with beds in the event of bad weather. It would double as a mess hall and base of operations. There were plans for notice boards and work details, all coming from this one structure that was yet to be built.

Ellie was good people. Glen was a little bit wild, and she was oft times a little bit stiff backed and proper, but they tended to even each other out, not to mention that Sheppard was kind of a genius.

Even Monty said that. He'd complain about talking to a brick wall, but at the end of the day, the two of them could think up things that would never even occur to the general populous.

The wall was looking fine. The space for the community hall had been cleared and the smoke house was up and running, allowing them to start storing things for the winter to come. Ellie was talking to Wells, and the two of them seemed to be displeased with each other. Sheppard, like the great majority of the hundred, was displeased at Wells as a proxy for his father. However, this bickering seemed to be more personal than that.

As Clarke walked closer to find out what was going on, she found herself dragged into the middle of things. She seemed to do that a lot. "Griffin, tell your puppy that if we stop every hour for these prissy punks, that this fancy wall you requested, will never get done."

Clarke held back a sigh. Wells merely looked affronted that he'd been referred to as a puppy. "The people have to eat, and the people have to drink. It's the fundamentals. The wall doesn't need to be done in a day." Clarke instantly regretted opening her mouth.

A pair of knowing brown eyes settled on her, as Ellie's attention shifted. "If those stories about you and the little Blake are true, we might need your wall done sooner, rather than later. Are you ready for that Griffin?" Somehow, Ellie knew where to aim to hit home.

Clarke gritted her teeth and stood by her argument. "If you work them to the bone today, then they'll be useless tomorrow." The younger girl towered over Clarke. She was thin and willowy and not blinded by Clarkes dodge at all.

"That's not what I asked Griffin."

The tension in the air was stifling. The two women locked eyes and neither was willing to

give way. Clarke took a sharp breath and responded, "Just build the wall Sheppard. If I do my job right, we won't need it."

The young engineer raised an eye brow at that, _Your job?_ It seemed to ask, _what exactly is your job? And how was leaving Octavia part of it?_ Clarke clenched her right hand on the sword hilt at her waist. Ellie's gaze flickered there for a second, before she looked down and away. She turned to Wells. "They get ten minutes, every two hours, and a lunch hour in the middle of the day; anything other than that, they run to fit in between shifting logs."

Wells nodded and started calling out orders to people. Most of them listened. Maybe they were beginning to see that he was actually a decent person. Finn caught sight of her and started towards her, but before he got within ten paces a thought hitched itself into her mind. When Finn cam level with her, her found her frozen, thinking rapidly and mostly unresponsive to his presence.

"You alright there princess?"

She took a breath before looking up at him. "I think I know where O is."

He looked at her sceptically for no more than a second, but the intensity of her eyes told him that she was being serious. "I'll go get Bellamy." He turned to get the older Blake, but Clarke shot a hand out, to stop him.

"That's a bad idea. If I'm right, we need to look and act non-threatening."

"Nonthreatening? You think Octavia's been captured by Grounders?"

"Not taken, just-"

"And you think they'll just give her back?"

"Finn, you don't understand."

"No, no one understands Clarke. What are you gonna do, go up and ask if we 'can pretty please have our friend back, if she's still alive?' that's not a good plan Princess. And Bellamy has a right to come along. I'll go find him. Wait at the gate." Fin started walking away, but he called over his shoulder before he got too far. "You look like shit, by the way."

She sighed tiredly and bit back any ill-conceived reply that tried to fight its way to her tongue.

"He's right." Wells, had obviously finished ordering people around, and was now rearranging the items in a pack.

"Yeah, I feel like shit too, thanks for that." Clarke gently ran a hand over her aching ribs, up to her throbbing shoulder and then to her burning neck.

"No Clarke, He's right that no one understands, and that Bellamy has a right to come along. Something's up with you." Clarke opened her mouth. "-Don't even try to deny it, I know you better than that. You said we'd talk, Clarke."

And she had, on their first day on the ground before she'd gone gallivanting about, off to that clearing. The clearing kept drawing her, where ever she was, she knew which way to walk, to get there. It was a haunting compass, and she didn't know whether she should follow it, or vehemently avoid it.

"We will, but Octavia's still out there, and we have to get her back."

"And then what happens? Something else will always come up Clarke; you'll find another way to avoid talking."

He was right, of course. Dam him. He just wanted to know what was going on with his friend. It wasn't his fault that he wouldn't believe her. How could he? She wouldn't believe him if their roles were reversed.

She gripped Lexa's sword tighter, trying to steel herself. Right at that moment, Bellamy stormed around the corner. "Let's move." He demanded, and Clarke gave Wells a half apologetic grimace. The young Jaha had his pack at his side though, and started after them.

They settled into a rhythm quickly. Clarke led them through the trees and under brush with confident strides. Before they neared their location, she gestured for them to walk silently. She hesitated for a moment, as she looked to Bellamy. He'd brought his rifle up to scope and was creeping forwards with the gun at the ready. She looked down at the sword at her hip, but thought it would be less useful. She hitched her own rifle up from her back, and advanced alongside Bellamy.

She scanned the trees; _never forget to look up_ , she thought to herself. It had been their downfall more than once. The cave mouth loomed before them, and they crept up slowly. It was too quiet. Clarke's heart began to pound in her chest and she had a horrible thought that she was wrong. All she had to go on was how things were repeating, finding their own patters, resisting change. If she was wrong, she could be starting a war.

They checked every corner and became more tense with each wary step. They approached the last corner, and Clarke hesitated once again. She was annoyed at herself now. _What happens happen_ s, she thought, and there wasn't shit she could do about it. She gripped the rifle tighter in her sweating hands and swept around the corner in one smooth motion.

Octavia lay in chains at the far end of Lincoln's cave. She was sporting bandages on her right foot, and a score of bumps and scrapes, but all in all, she looked better off than Clarke did.

Both women stood open mouthed and wide eyed, surprised to find each other there.

"O!" Bellamy shoved past Clarke and ran to his sister, rifle forgotten. He gathered her up in a hug and proceeded to fire questions at her, so fast that answers became impossible. She protested to Bellamy's attention, but eventually she mumbled about a grounder and how he'd saved her, but she'd fallen into the little bunker and busted her ankle. She must have gotten a gulp of the fog, or something else, because she'd passed out and found herself here.

When Clarke came back to her senses, she scoured the room for a key, or something else to break her chains. She found a familiar key nestled amongst Lincoln's things.

When they got her free they helped her to her feet, and turned towards the exit. Then they heard the scuffling of footsteps followed by a movement in the shadows of the hall way.

Bellamy raised his gun, but Clarke gestured frantically for him to stand down. She waited at the corner, while the others watched and waited with baited breath. The moment Lincoln came into view, Clarke lashed out with the butt of her own rifle. Lincoln was quick to react, raising his arms to defend himself, but Clarke still had the jump on him. He didn't get his hands up in time, and Clarke's blow sent him sprawling to the floor.

Lincoln lay unmoving and Clarke's eyes carried nervously to the others. "We need to go. Now. Quick, before he wakes up." Bellamy looked towards his sister and then to the chains that held her captive. He pointed his gun at Lincolns head, looking very much prepared to pull the trigger.

Wells jumped in front of him, "What the hell are you doing? Do you want to start a war?!"

Finn jumped in too, before Clarke could even think. "Hold on Bellamy. He's right, this would start something, and we don't have lives to spare on stupid skirmishes." He leant down and checked Lincoln's pulse.

Clarke's heart jumped into her throat, and her vision seemed to slow. She saw Lincoln start to draw his dagger. He moved faster than anyone could see and drove it into Finn's chest. Wells was standing right behind the Trikru warrior and rammed a fist into his temple in retaliation. Lincoln dropped like a sack of bones and Clarke just watched in horror.

* * *

 **AN:** And another chapter down. I know this one was a little slower, but we'll get a little bit more into the thick of things in the next chapter. Clarke will take the first big steps to carving her own path.

Hopefully I can punch it out a little bit faster than this one, but I'm super busy at the moment so I can't make time frame promises. Sorry, I really wish I could.

As always, feel free to let me know what you think.

Thanks again for reading.

-Kama


	5. Chapter 4

**AN:** Hello again.

Sorry this took so long, it was the last part of the uni semester and it was crazy.

This chapter got really long, so I split it in half; upside is that the next chapter it ¾ done, downside is that it's a bit slow, heavier on the character interactions than the events. I hope you don't mind.

As always, thanks for the favourites, follows and reviews.

Thanks to the guest reviewer. It'll take more than that to keep a Blake down, thanks for reading and commenting.

* * *

 **Chapter 4:**

Clarke stared at the strange tableau that unfolded before her. She stood frozen in shock and a fear that ached right to the centre of her bones. Nothing could change. Everything would find a way to repeat. There was no use in fighting.

Everyone was moving around her. They were yelling and scrambling. Octavia had jumped in front on Lincoln to stop Wells from overreacting; Bellamy had started tying ropes around the warrior's wrists. Wells, once contained shuffled to a fallen Finn and yelled something to her.

She didn't hear it.

Three hundred people on the Ark would die; they thought the ground was uninhabited. The mountain would catch them, they'd be harvested. She couldn't save anyone.

"Clarke! He's dying!" Wells was screaming at her desperately.

 _I can't do anything, nothing will change._ Clarke's heart was hammering in her chest, and her stomach had settled somewhere around her knees.

"Clarke! We need you!" Octavia was in front of her now, gripping her shoulders and shaking her out of her encumbering thoughts.

She didn't say anything to Clarke; she stood, and held her gaze for a long series of heartbeats. Clarke's hopelessness lifted a fraction. Finn might die, but he didn't die like this.

She took one long, grounding breath, and nodded to Octavia. The young Blake nodded back, and stepped out of the way. Clarke leant over and inspected the wound. It was the same one; the one her mother had coached her how to treat over the radio, during the storm.

She found her center, and started making orders. Finn needed to be moved back to the drop ship. He needed to be moved fast, and he needed to be moved gently. Lincoln needed to be carried back, but the camp also needed to be informed of their coming arrival, so that Clarke could get that knife out of Finn immediately.

They found a way. Clarke could drag Lincoln along on her own, if with some difficulty. She would stumble along with the Trikru warrior while Wells and Bellamy gently carried Finn together.

They didn't have time to make a stretcher, but they could bind Finns arms over a sturdy branch, allowing the two boys to have a grip on a rigid object, rather than Finns mostly inanimate arms.

Octavia sprinted in front of them. She would send more people to help them get the two unconscious bodies into safety and prepare a room that Clarke could operate in. That's how they moved.

Lincoln's head lolled from side to side as Clarke roughly dragged him over her shoulders and scrambled after Octavia. The boys were close behind, and moved at a smoother pace.

After several minutes, Clarke was regretting the delegation of her plans. Her tired body protested, each step reminded her of her aching shoulder and bruised ribs. She gasped for air, and hoped that Octavia got them help soon. The boys found a rhythm to their strides and glided across the ground, hardly disturbing Finn as they ran.

Clarke jolted over a tree branch and nearly hit the dirt. She recovered at the last second, but she felt Lincoln stir. "Don't you wake up now Lincoln," She gasped between breaths "That's not fair." She felt the muscles in his shoulders relax slightly and he became more of a deadweight. If she had the means, she would have sighed in relief, but she didn't have air to spare.

She looked at the ground directly in front of her, concentrating on the placement of her feet. She didn't know how much time passed when a group of The Hundred appeared through the trees and lifted the weight off her burning shoulders. She kept her pace even though. She spent the rest of the run back steadying her breathing.

When she made it to the camp, everything was moving. Ellie Sheppard was barking orders to her heavy lifters, getting them to drag a bench back to the drop ship so Clarke could use it as an operating table. Octavia was running down Monty's limited supply of moonshine to use as disinfectant and a bunch of other items.

Clarke came out of her jog, and took a moment to catch her breath. She would need steady hands for this.

Lincoln was dragged to the top floor of the drop ship, presumably to be tied there and questioned by Bellamy. Finn was carried in and Clarke followed him to the table.

She inspected the wound more closely now. Her hands moved without thought, counting which ribs the blade was between, looking at the angle, confirming that the knife was the same. She checking his thready pulse and shallow breathing, and remembered. _Upward and to the left_ , the blade was close to a major artery, _Very slightly to the left_.

She disinfected her hands, and the wound. She ordered someone to prepare wire and bandages so she could stitch and bind the wound.

There was no storm this time, and no crackling radio to distract her. She'd done this before, she could do it again. When this was done, _then_ she could think about how to change things, what to do. But not before.

She let out a breath and gripped the knife. At that moment Octavia shuffled into the room. Clarke felt her hands waver, and she withdrew them. Octavia mumbled an apology before meeting her at the other side of the table. "You can do this Clarke, I know you can."

Clarke let out one half hysterical scoff, "Yeah, that's half the problem, O." Octavia only looked confused. She shook her head, and gripped the knife in her left hand once more.

As she started to move the blade, Finn started waking up, but Octavia jumped in and held him down, telling him firmly that he should stay still unless he wants to die. His face turned more pale, but he tried not to squirm. She pulled on the blade, painfully slowly. Finn groaned the whole time, but held fast. When the knife slipped free of his chest she stood back for half a second, and thanked whoever was listening. Then she found herself in autopilot, cleaning, stitching and dressing the wound, ordering someone to give him water and making sure he wasn't to get up or move.

She washed her hands of blood and found a place to sit outside and catch her breath.

Pascal and Trina walked by and waved to her; they walked hand in hand, and were smiling at her too. The great cloud above Clarke's head seemed to lighten. They were alive. They were living, breathing proof that things could be changed, even if she had to fight tooth and nail to get them to stick. Ellie strode by, at the corner of her vision. She held her usual sceptical frown, but when Clarke looked over, she saw the tightly wound young woman crack a grin, as a waiting Glen made a joke.

She pulled the sword off her belt and put it across her knees. She found a peace in its worn, carved hilt and familiar patterns. Perhaps she was only delaying the inevitable, but who would she be, if she didn't try?

She ran her hands down the swords hilt one more time, thinking of the proud woman who owned the blade. She made a choice in that moment. She stood, and reattached the sword to her hip and then climbed to the top of the drop ship.

"Get out. All of you." She ordered as soon as she entered the room that Lincoln was being held in. The young Trikru warrior had already woken up; he was sporting a few more bruises than when Clarke had been lugging him through the woods, but he was in better shape than the last time she'd found him tied up in that there.

"I don't think so Princess, we're not leaving you alone with that thing." Bellamy had that stoic look on his face, it was the one she saw when he didn't know how to feel, when there were a dozen things running through his head, and he didn't know if it was a good idea to let the rash part of him take control.

Clarke's eyes turned ice cold. She couldn't wait around for him to make enough mistakes to get his head together. "Get out of my way, Bellamy. I've got a patient down there that's been poisoned, and I will find the antidote. No one carries poison on them without a backup plan. I won't ask again."

He held her gaze for a long moment, searching her eyes. He clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to argue back. "We need him alive." He spoke it coldly, but headed to the hatch before Clarke could respond. He made one gesture, and the rest of his men followed. Before the hatch closed, she heard him call out "Miller will be just outside, when you're done."

Clarke sighed, and walked over to the box of bottles amongst Lincoln's things. Lincoln's eyes followed her coldly the whole way. If Time was going to fight her, she just had to fight back harder.

"Lincoln." His eyes focused sharply, but he hid his astonishment well. Clarke saw his hands grip his constraints a little tighter, but he remained mostly impassive. It would take more than a name to make an impact. "Ai Laik Klark kom Skaikru, and I know you can speak English."

Lincoln eyes widened and his body stiffened. Clarke grabbed the antidote to the knife's poison. "This one right? I thought so..." the grounders eyes flickered in astonishment between Clarke and the vial.

"I know this sounds crazy, and I don't really know what's going on either. But I need you to get me to Anya, so she can show me to Lexa. More of my people are coming to the ground, and we don't want war. We need to negotiate a peace now, before either of our people's anger escalates and they start wanting revenge. The Commander's the only one that can do that."

Lincoln remained silent, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. "Lincoln, can you get me to Anya?"

"How, do you? W-what?" He abandoned all pretences of ignorance towards English.

"I don't know... But this has all happened, I know about the mountain, and the Reapers, TonDC and Nyko, and Indra. I know about the twelve clans and how the Ice Queen is slowly trying to rally against Lexa's coalition.

"Lincoln, you don't have to understand, because I know I don't. But things need to change. We need peace, or the losses on both sides will be catastrophic. Please? _Beja?_ Can you get me to Anya, so we can talk?"

Lincoln's whole body seemed to slump. He stood slack jawed and she could see him trying to process the words she'd just spoken. He looked as though he was trying to translate them from another language, and failing at it.

"Lincoln," She didn't know if repeating his name would enforce the urgency of their situation, or scare him off.

He still stood astonished; he breathed a few heavy breaths and avoided her eyes.

Time seemed to tick by slower with each breath he took.

Finally, he lifted his shocked gaze to her own. " _Sha."_ He frowned at himself for a second, "Yes."

Clarke gave him one firm nod. "Good, I'll make sure they don't harm you again, I may need a couple of days to convince them to release you, but we will find peace."

She turned and left the baffled man to try and measure her against her words.

The next few hours passed painfully slowly. She gave Finn the antidote, ordered Miller to leave the prisoner alone, except for food and water, and had a glaring match with Bellamy as he protested to her treatment of his sister's kidnapper.

The two leaders eventually came to an agreement, but only after Octavia intervened and told Bellamy that Lincoln hadn't hurt her. Bellamy conceded to leave the Trikru warrior alone, provided that the grounders didn't retaliate to his presence here.

They went into a whole different argument when Clarke told him she was going to meet with their leader. The agreement was struck, that Bellamy, and only Bellamy could come, provided he was unarmed and kept his anger in check. He was not pleased with that outcome, but Clarke wouldn't be moved.

At some stage during their second argument, Octavia had left, letting the two leaders work through things on their own. When Clarke exited the tent, her limbs were lead heavy and she felt her eyes aching with weariness. But there were still things to do.

She strode off towards Ellie, intending to get a report on the wall's construction. She didn't get ten paces before she found Octavia blocking her path. The young Blake forced a plate of food into Clarke's hands and told her that Finn was sleeping, but looked better now; he wasn't as pale and was breathing more steadily. Clarke nodded and thanked her for the food. "I'll go and-"

"-Get some sleep now? Yeah, I thought you were about to say that. Good idea Clarke."

The two women stared at each other, but Clarke was too tired to fight back. "O, I'll check on him and then go. I want to make sure the antidote to that poison is working."

Clarke tried to move past her, but Octavia caught her shoulder on the way through. Clarke hissed at the twinge that was sent through her chest and down her arm. "Sorry," She lifted the hand off Clarke's shoulder but didn't move out of the way. "How 'bout, someone else checks on Collins, and if anything changes, we'll send someone to come and get you."

Clarke's stomach clenched at the thought of the nightmares that would surely follow any sleep. She knew though, that she couldn't keep this up for long if she didn't get some rest. She gritted her teeth, "Fine, but wake me the _second_ anything changes."

"Promise." Octavia nodded back before gesturing to the food in Clarke's hands, and then moving out of the way, watching the older girl retreat back to her tent.

Clarke dreamt of the Glade. Her dream allowed her to wander its space, and see it from all different angles. There was a peace that whispered at her thoughts as the ancient clearing hosted her. Her thoughts wandered, but didn't touch on anything dark; they shifted from admiring the scale of the trees, to the reflections in the crescent moon pool.

When she woke, she felt like a person again. The tired ache behind her eyes was gone, and the pain from her bruises faded to the back of her thoughts. She was well rested, and felt like she was being told not to give up.

Clarke said goodbye to any body clock she may have possessed. The rest of the camp was gathered around the main cooking fire. Several large, fat birds were dripping on spits, and off to the side was some sort of pig. She did a lap of the camp.

Finn was awake, and arguing with Monroe. Monroe was stationed there to keep Finn out of trouble; she told her it was wishful thinking. She exited the room, to give Clarke a chance to examine Finn properly.

"You look like shit." She said smugly.

He gave her half a laugh, before grimacing and holding his chest. "I suppose I deserve that. You'll be glad to know, that you look less like shit than yesterday though. So good job on that one."

She cracked a grin, "How're you feeling?'

"I'm fine; it'll take more than a minor stab wound to keep me down."

Clarke's face turned pale at a horrid memory. _No, it wouldn't._ "Seriously, Finn, how do you feel? Does it hurt when you breathe? Do you feel cold? Warm? I need an actual answer."

She felt a shiver when he looked at her with more concern, than she did at him. He was bedridden and wounded, and the worry in his eyes struck her deep to her soul.

He waited for a moment, before he replied. In those moments, he let his concerns be known, he let her know that he would listen, if she needed him to. Clarke felt her eyes sting at that, she clenched her jaw, and focused. He was a patient, she needed an assessment. "I feel cool, but not cold, shaky, but not shivery." She nodded and placed a hand on his forehead and then chest; there were no signs of fever. "It feels like I've been winded, and pulled a bunch of muscles in my stomach, and have a muscle cramp there, all at once."

"Does it twinge sharply, if you breathe? Or just ache?"

"It aches, but I feel the actual wound twinge, when I move too much.

She raised an eyebrow at him, "Well then don't move too much." He walked right into that one, and showed his displeasure. "The whole thing is an actual wound too, do you mean the surface?"

"Yeah, where the stiches are."

She nodded, and checked and changed his bandages. He writhed when she added more alcohol to disinfect it. When he caught his breath, he called after her receding form. "The Grounder? Is he okay?"

Clarke smiled sadly, before turning back to him. "Yeah, he's fine; I was just about to check in on him now too. Did you need anything else?"

"No-Clarke, Monroe said the knife was poisoned, and you got the antidote out of him. I need to know what you did to get it." He was distressed. He didn't want to be to blame for anything. "Please."

Her sad smile stayed on her face, for him to see. "He's fine Finn. I made a deal to meet with his leaders, he agreed."

"And Bellamy?"

Her smile receded now. "He may have gotten a few shots in before I could intervene, but by the looks of his scars, the man's had worse. Bellamy was just angry about Octavia, _and_ about you."

"Don't try to justify what he did Clarke. That's no excuse."

That sentence echoed through her. Her face became a desperate frown. "Maybe not on the Ark, Finn. But we're on the ground now. If we have to change, shouldn't we at least become a little more forgiving? We can have second chances now; remember that."

She turned and left, leaving a very confused and weary Finn Collins in her wake.

Climbing the ladder, she found Lincoln alone, but for Atom guarding him. The two men were both staring coldly at each other, but turned to Clarke when she came in. Atom nodded to her, and left the room.

Clarke walked all the way up to Lincoln "I'm gonna untie you now, I would appreciate if you remembered that we'll let you go tomorrow." His eyes bored into her. "Just, don't lash out, okay Lincoln? I know every instinct inside you is telling you to fight your way out, but you don't need to. We don't need to fight each other at all, not again."

She reached up to untie his left hand, but paused for a moment as she realised what she'd said. She knew Lincoln well enough to see the confusion crack though his impassive mask. She let out a tired breath and reached for his bonds, once more.

She managed to untie him without incident. She walked back from him slowly, showing her hands to him. When she got far enough back, she unhooked the rifle from her shoulder and slowly placed it on the floor, and then she did the same with the sword at her waist.

Lincoln eyed the sword with wide eyes, and looked back up at her, questioning. She looked away from him. Telling him one thing, would mean she had to tell him everything; and there was a line she had to draw. He wouldn't believe her any way. He had no reason to believe her, no reason to trust her.

"It's Clarke right?" She nodded, he'd remembered of course. Hard to forget the strange new person that knows a part of your language, she supposed. "Where did you get that sword?"

She swallowed, and resisted the urge to pick the blade back up, to have that comforting weight hanging off her hip once again. "I found it. It was stabbed into the dirt in a clearing to the west of here."

Lincoln's eyes widened. In shock but he composed his thoughts in a moment and shook his head. He was jumping to conclusions. "That sword is not yours; you should not have removed it."

Clarke could see him analysing her. Did he know about the Glade too? Could he know why she was here? Did he remember? _No,_ she thought, _He was too astonished and terrified when I told him I know about The Mountain and Indra and everything. If he remembered too, he would have been relieved._ A little bit of hope she didn't realise she'd been holding, floated away. _Just like I'd be relieved._ "Maybe not, but I didn't see anyone else using it. I have plans to return it to its owner, anyway."

The space between them became charged. He stared accusingly at her. "How exactly do you plan to do that?"

She realised that it may have sounded threatening. If Lincoln knew it was Lexa's sword, he would be doubly cautious of her careless remark. "It doesn't exactly look like an everyday sword," she tried to recover. "I assume someone will recognise it, and be able to pass it on for me." She made sure to sound nonchalant about it.

From there, they talked. The ice seemed to break a little bit, and they had questions for each other. Lincoln had seen the ship land, not an hour later there were orders passed though all ranks that the people from the sky would not be harmed unless they attacked first. Formal scouting parties were sent out to observe, and report back to the lieutenants and generals, passing word off to the Commander as more information came in.

Clarke told Lincoln what the Ark was, how it came to be with the destruction of the earth below, how her people up there would die soon, if they didn't find a way to the ground. She made sure to ask and answer questions as though she was new to the ground too. She could tell he wanted to ask about everything she'd said before, but she honestly had few answers to give. He didn't ask those questions though. He was smart enough to avoid then until he got more out of her.

She gave him food and water. She checked over his wounds, and they negotiated with each other, that he would be tied back up, provided Clarke sent Octavia to talk to him.

By the time Clarke finished her discussion with Lincoln, the rest of the Hundred were gathered around lazily munching on the food that was prepared. She wandered over to Octavia, who was deep in discussion with Ellie about something. "You can go talk to the Grounder now if you want O; he seems to glare at you less than the rest of us."

Octavia's sentence to Ellie stopped dead and she looked up at Clarke. There was something in that look that Clarke couldn't read.

"Yeah, okay. I'll see you around Sheppard." Ellie nodded and watched her go before looking suspiciously back at Clarke.

"What?" Clarke said after fidgeting under the girl's gaze for a moment longer.

"I don't know yet Griffin, but I'll figure it out." Clarke shifted from foot to foot as she tried to control the emotions flickering through her thoughts.

"When you do, let me know. I'd seriously love to figure it out."

"I'm not joking Griffin."

"And neither am I." Clarke's fidgeting stopped at the accusation and she returned Ellie's glare. The two women looked at each other with daggers. Clarke dearly hoped that Sheppard wouldn't become another obstacle she had to blindly hurdle. At that moment, Wells saved her. He shoved a plate of food in her hands and stood between the glaring women.

"Clarke, how'd you sleep?"

Ellie looked away, content to let the matter sit, for now.

"Wells, fine, thanks." She took the plate from his hands and moved off, gesturing for him to follow.

They sat in a content silence as they ate their respective meals. After they finished, Clarke felt her friend's eye's boring into the side of her head. Waiting. Expectant.

She pointedly avoided any eye contact. Wells didn't say anything, he just sat there staring. Clarke stayed under his silent scrutiny for another couple of minutes until it became too much. She wouldn't ask him why he was staring. She knew.

She gave a tired sigh and turned to Wells. "I don't know where to start. What do you want to know?"

He looked baffled for a moment, and stared at her disbelievingly. He hadn't expected to get anything out of her. Their friendship on the ground had been distant to say the least. Wells still thought it was because Clarke blamed her for her Father's death. He asked her this, to start with. "How'd you know? How'd you know it was you mother and not me?"

"I didn't at first. There was a long time where I was mad at you, because I couldn't even comprehend the thought that it could have been my Mother. I didn't understand. But a friend pointed out to me that you were too loyal, you never acted like you would ever betray me. I thought about it for a while and figured it out. My mom thought she was protecting the people on the Ark. It couldn't have been you, I'm sorry I even considered that it was." She was staring at the ground now, not willing to meet his eyes.

She didn't know how much time passed in that state, but a gentle hand came to rest on her shoulder, pulling her gaze upwards. She met warm, clam eyes as he stared at her with such _weight_. "I wanna say its okay Clarke, but I know that's not everything. What's haunting you?" he said it with such tenderness, and Clarke was suddenly reminded of why Wells had always been her best friend.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you..." Her voice was a horse whisper, and hitched halfway through. It was a desperate plea and Wells only scooted closer to her, nodding.

"You won't know until you try." Her chest had coiled in on itself, making every breath shudder in her lungs. She wanted someone to know, she needed someone to understand. Maybe then they could just tell her she was crazy, and she could forget the whole lot. "Please Clarke."

Somehow it wasn't a question; it was an invitation, a nudge. She looked at him; his eyes were kind, offering understanding. Her whole chest heaved as she drew in a great, shuddering breath; when she released it, all the coils there loosened their hold over her.

She told him everything.

He sat and listened, keeping his face a mask, as she told him about the first lever she'd pulled, burning hundreds of Grounders alive. It had been in the heat of battle then, each of them on a rampage, prepared to kill them without a thought. She thought that maybe she could live with that one. It had been a desperate fight for their survival then.

After that though was the other lever. The cold decision of War. Nearly four hundred dead. Women. Children. People that had helped them... Friends.

She told him everything she'd done wrong. She couldn't tell him that he'd died on her too, but she let him know how many people she'd lost.

And finally, when everything was out on the table, when she'd said everything she had to say, a silence stretched between them. Clarke felt hollow, like she'd just emptied out her soul and was left with no walls to hold back the pain. She felt rubbed raw and didn't know what she should be feeling; but behind all that, she felt a little better. A weight had lifted off her chest, and though it wasn't the largest of the weights that rested there, not by half, the difference was notable enough that she felt a little bit closer to okay.

"Okay." It was the first word he'd spoken to her, since she started telling him everything. She looked at him again, trying to judge how crazy he must think she was, but that word resonated in her head for another moment.

"W-what?" It almost sounded like he believed her.

"Okay." He said it with more conviction this time. It didn't drag on, like he was dismissing her. "I believe you Clarke. Now, what do you plan to do about it? How do we make it better this time?"

 _We_. _He said_ _we_. Something must have shown on her face, because he leaned over and pulled her into a hug. Truth be told, she had no idea what had shown on her face, because she had too many things surging through her head. She relaxed into his embrace, revelling in the human contact that she'd been avoiding all this time. She hadn't wanted to get close to anyone, but she couldn't push him away, not again. Not with how things had ended last time. She finally revelled in the thought that she might actually have her best friend back. Maybe there was hope after all.  
Clarke didn't tell him anything else, she'd spoken too much and she had no idea where to start. She had dozens of plans in her head that were changing on an hourly basis, as she remembered and forgot the little details. He didn't seem to mind. They merely got up, and walked back to the drop ship. Wells said goodnight and left her, but only when she looked like she needed time alone. She had more to think about now. He wouldn't judge her so harshly now, he wouldn't worry so much. That would be a good thing for the both of them.

Clarke sighed and stood in the centre of the camp. _What now?_ She thought. _What's next in the grand plan?_ She didn't know. A lot of it now, would be waiting. In the morning, Clarke would talk to Bellamy and Lincoln and organise the meeting with Anya... There was a stroke of panic, thinking about the severe woman, and how Clarke would even begin peace talks with her. Her stomach had dropped at the thought, and she didn't want to ruin her momentary peace with thoughts like that. Not yet.

The Ark would come down eventually, then she'd be able to make good on the deal she planned to make with the Grounders. They needed to find a way to get rid of the mountain, without a replay of last time.

She needed to keep her people alive.

A small scream caught Clarke off guard, the twitch found her with the rifle firmly planted in her hands and her eyes scanning the trees around her.

 _"No!"_ the scream came again. A desperate cry. She was struck with a crippling moment of déjà vu, and cringed at the irony of it. _Charlotte_. It couldn't be anything else. She'd been avoiding this encounter, completely unsure what to do, but she had to change things now. This was a good a place to start as any.

* * *

 **AN:**

Thanks for reading!

As I said above, the next chapter's well on its way, and hopefully won't take too much longer. I'm getting slowed down by the trigedasleng, so if anyone knows a good place to get tips on the language, hit me up.

Fun fact: this story was originally called Under the Weather, but developing the storyline further, revealed that the name didn't fit. The master document, with everything in it, is still called Under the Weather though. I thought it was very punny.

Thanks again

-Kama


	6. Chapter 5

**AN:** Hi!

We're getting into the juicy stuff now, bear with me.

As always, Thanks to everyone for the reviews, favourites and follows. I love hearing from you.

Some of you may have noticed an edit to Chapter 1. I've now officially put this story into three formal parts. This is **Part 1: A Soul that Wanders** and each part will be presented a little differently and follow different sorts of events.

Please enjoy, and let me know what you think.

* * *

 **Chapter 5:**

Clarke let Lincoln go in the morning. He left, with all his possessions, minus the knife he'd forfeited to Finn's chest. Bellamy was tense through the whole ordeal, but he nodded respectfully to the warrior before he departed. Lincoln promised to speak to Anya, and return as soon as he had a time and place to meet; he warned that Anya would likely want to meet spontaneously, in order to avoid a trap. Clarke made sure she had a pack of supplies at the ready, prepared for her departure.

Two days passed with no word from the Grounders. Finn was recovering rapidly and could be found on his feet more each day. Clarke passed her time hunting, overseeing the construction projects and organising the work rosters of the remaining hundred. When she could find the time, or couldn't sleep, she found herself either drawing, or practising her fighting forms, training so the movements were less tiring.

Murphy had tried to object to the fact that she hardly ever did any of the heavy lifting, but after Clarke pointed out the fact that the meat in his hand was caught by her own, he became less hostile. Mbege, his sidekick was said to have had words with him. He'd supposedly told Murphy that all he needed to do was look at Clarke to see how hard she worked to keep the camp together. Clarke made a mental note to thank the boy at some point.

She and Wells had started wandering off at dinner time and talking each night. He would ask for the specifics of what happened last time, and she would tell him as much as she could bear. He would never push, and for that she was thankful.

Charlotte...

Clarke would deflate at the very thought of that little girl.

 _"It was just a dream." She said, but now she knew better than most, just how real and haunting dreams like that could get._

 _"Yeah, I understand." This time the words hung heavy in her chest. More so than the last at least. "My father was floated too." But it wasn't just her father that she was thinking of._

 _"I can't say I blame you." And she didn't, but she was angry at the thought. The Council sent a twelve year old girl down here to die. How could they do that? Kids a month off their hearings were one thing, but a twelve year old girl that was angry after her parents died...It was a broken system. She also couldn't be mad for things the girl had done in a past life. That'd be awfully hypocritical of the things she was trying to forgive herself over._

 _The girl had looked at Clarke searchingly, she could see the deep wounds behind her words, and looked to listen more intently. "You know, I have nightmares too. Everything I've ever screwed up, I see it in my dreams."_

 _"They said you don't sleep much..." she hesitated for a long moment, unsure how to put the next question into words. "H-how do you... How..." She trailed off, but Clarke got the message._

 _"You've just gotta know when to blame, and when to forgive... Things that happened on the Ark, they happened because the station could hardly keep its whole population alive. Down here Charlotte, we can forgive; we get enough time to understand. I'm not saying it'll ever stop hurting, but maybe it won't burn in your chest every night, maybe we've got a second chance." The speech was almost the same, she was worried it wasn't enough._

 _"Do you really believe that?"_

 _This, this was what would be different. "Yes." She said it with such conviction, and she finally felt sure; "Yes, more than anything." Because why else was she still here?_

 _Charlotte held her gaze for a long, ponderous moment, eyes weeping the tears she couldn't hold. She gave a quick nod, and Clarke pulled her closer, so the girls head rested on her shoulder._

She didn't know if she'd made any progress on that front; or just directed things more thoroughly down the existing path. She still refused to tell Wells anything about it, but by now, he'd noticed his absence in the later part of her extravagant tale.

They'd just finished their food, and Clarke used it as an excuse to stop talking. She'd told him about pulling the lever to the drop ship engines that killed the invading Trikru warriors. She hadn't broken down when she told him, and she counted that as a victory; she was not at all ready to even begin telling him about the mountain though, so she let the silence stretch between them. When he realised that the conversation would go no further that night, she gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, grabbed her empty plate, and left her to her thoughts.

She still didn't believe that he believed her. She was half convinced that the explanations she was giving him, were just a tool to see how far she was carrying the delusion. He looked at her differently now, that he had before... less lost, and somehow less hopeful, both at once. It seemed like maybe he'd let her go, at least his ridiculous crush on her that she'd been avoiding for years. Now he just listened, he was there, and he listened and didn't judge when she hesitated talking about Finn... and about Lexa...

She let out a sigh and looked up at the sky. The knight was still and cloudless and she gazed at the stars above, wondering why they'd held her prisoner for so long and then thrown her into the thick of things so suddenly.

A streak of light caught her attention in the sky above.

Her eyes widened and she kept her eye on the object as it came through the atmosphere.

Back at camp, she collected her pack and woke a bleary eyed Finn Collins. Dragging the young, wounded tracker into the woods, she saw the shooting star fall to the ground in an unfamiliar location; but ran towards it anyway.

Finn seemed to wake up when he saw the fiery streak hit the horizon. "That was from the Ark, wasn't it?" Clarke told him to keep moving. He stumbled a little faster and clutched his side more firmly, wincing a little as his feet jarred against the ground each time. She kept an eye on him, but he looked excited at the prospect of news from above, and a flicker of hope sparked behind his eyes. She just hoped that it was Raven Reyes falling from the sky, and not something else.

It was a long hike, but they found a roughed up escape pod, heaped on the ground. Finn went to run towards it, but Clarke held him off. She circled the pod, looking for any sparks or dangers that could make the whole thing volatile. Finding none, she approached, with Finn at her side. They found one unconscious form inside a space suit and a radio, calling for contact. Clarke saw that it was Raven, and turned to Finn.

"I told you she wouldn't give up."

He pushed her aside and looked at his girlfriend. Nothing had come between them this time and the tender worry in Finn's eyes made Clarke's heart ache. He removed Raven's helmet and gently called her name, running his fingers over the bump on her forehead, which was just visible under the lights of the console. When she didn't respond, he turned desperately to Clarke.

Clarke returned to the mechanic's side and inspected the head wound, finding it to be similar to last time. She looked around, curious as to the new landing zone. Was this only because Raven had come down a few days early? How had she managed to get the pod working that fast? She shook her head and made Finn help her lift Raven out of the seat to lay her on the ground away from the pod.

Raven would be out for a little while longer. Finn was sent to collect some water from a small stream not too far away. Then the cold water was applied to the bump on Raven's head with a scrap of cloth. Hopefully reducing the swelling now would allow her to come to a little sooner. She left Finn to watch over their new arrival and found the radio.

"Calling Ark Space Station, this is Clarke Griffin, over."

The response was immediate. A dozen questions were asked and Clarke couldn't understand half of them. She noted that the voice on the other end seemed rather relieved to finally have made contact. "Raven Reyes if fine, and so are the other members of the Hundred." She gave them the information that they needed. She gave the radio the coordinates of the drop ship. The told them about the non-hostile people of the ground. She was so close to telling them not to trust Mount Weather, but there was a possibility the Mountain was listening to them.

"Clarke!" A voice behind her called. She turned her head to find Finn gesturing to a woozy, but conscious Raven. She told the radio to stand by, and inspected the mechanic more closely. She had a concussion. While Raven was woozy and dizzy when she moved, she remembered where she came from and how she got there, so Clarke gave her the temporary all clear. They helped the Mechanic to her feet, and she admired their surroundings. Clarke watched her closely, analysing the young woman's condition where she stood.

"You remind me of your mother." Raven had commented after Clarke's onslaught of questions and the analytical look in her eyes. She'd paused for a moment at that, before asking Raven where Abby Griffin was now.

"Probably back in your cell, she said you'd done some crazy science shit or something in there. When she got your message from the bracelets, she recruited me full time. A couple seconds before the rest of them cut out, we got a half second of a transmission originating from your estimated landing location.

"Jaha found out what she was doing with me and gave me a couple other engineers to get the job done faster."

"Jaha helped you?" Clarke was at a miss. The politics of the Ark appeared to have changed, from what she knew.

"Yeah, his kid was the first to go dark. When your mother found out it was a message, she won some brownie points. Jaha brought a shit storm on himself when he helped us, Kane's half way to disposing him, but since, I'm assuming, you've replied to that radio; I don't think Kane's gonna have much luck. Good plan Griffin."

Clarke held her breath for a moment. There was a lot to process from what Raven had just said. She had another round of questions she wanted to ask of the mechanic, but Finn was hovering nearby. "Can you rip that radio out, so we can take it back to camp?" Raven only scoffed. Finn helped her to her feet and they removed the radio. It cut off when they did, but Raven assured them that all it needed was a power source, and if Monty was able to send something to them in the first place, then he had a power source that would work.

Clarke got them moving back towards camp, and took a few moments to figure out her position. She couldn't see the any signs of the sunrise, but she knew it wouldn't be far off. They were heading back at a much slower pace this time, but Finn still grimaced when he stumbled over a branch. Raven's reaction was instantaneous.

"What's wrong? What happened?" She'd swerved in front of him and stopped their progress. Clarke paused, not knowing whether to leave them to it, or not.

"I ah..." He stumbled over his words.

"-Do you know your way back Finn?" She interrupted and he floundered even more.

"Yeah, okay. We'll catch up."

As Clarke sped up she felt the air charge itself in response to Raven's anger "A stray knife?! What the hell does that mean!?" that was the only thing she overheard, but she looked forward to hearing just how Finn would dig himself out of that one.

Not five minutes passed before she stopped in her tracks. She heard movement up ahead, coming straight towards her. Whatever it was, was running full pelt, and didn't sound like it had any intentions of slowing down.

She slipped the rifle from her back and aimed it at the moving shrubbery ahead.

Her heart pounded in her ears as it came closer. Her finger slipped onto the trigger, ready if necessary. She strained to make out more of the sound. _Two feet_ , she thought; another moment of listening revealed the sound of a woman puffing at the effort of running that fast.

Clarke looked up from the scope, it was coming straight from the drop ship. She lowered the muzzle slightly but still held it ready.

Octavia Blake revealed herself, not ten paces away. "O?" Clarke called, to try and find out why the girl was running. She clamped down on any thoughts that she was running away from something. That wasn't helpful at all.

"There you are!" Octavia stopped and leant her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. "Lincoln came back; He says Anya wants to meet you and Bellamy now."

When Clarke didn't say anything straight away she added "Like, right now right now!"

They met up at the bridge, like last time. Clarke had given Octavia her rifle and pistol, making her swear not to reveal the latter to anyone. She kept Lexa's sword at her side.

When she heard the rusting of leaves on the other side of the bridge, she slipped the sword off her waist and held it in her left hand. Lincoln glanced down at it, unsure. She ignored him, and gestured for Bellamy to follow her. Lincoln's hand shot out, grabbing his shoulder. "She goes alone."

Bellamy puffed up his chest, ready to argue. Clarke put a hand on his chest and shoved him two steps backward from the Warrior. "Now's not the time for that." He clenched his jaw and stared at her. "We can't afford to fuck this up Bellamy. Wait here." His eyes sharpened at her, before flickering up to see Anya and her Warriors emerge through the trees.

He took a step forward again. "They were supposed to be unarmed."

"So was I," she gestured to the sword. "Sit tight." She didn't leave him room to argue. In the last two days they'd found a mutual peace between each other, but if she had to, she would scrap it for the larger peace they faced.

Anya had already started crossing the bridge. When she saw Clarke start towards her, she straightened up further. Her eyes flicked down to the blade in her hands, and her pace slowed. Clarke raised both hands in submission, and continued walking.

They met in the middle, but Anya stayed a few paces away, watching the weapon in her hands. "Your name is Clarke?" She nodded, her hands were still raised.

"You're Anya, right? I was told you might know who this belongs to." She offered the Warrior the hilt of the sword, a gesture of peace that allowed her to keep the distance between them. Anya grabbed the blade, brought it up and inspected it.

"Where did you get this?" It was a cautious question. The suspicion in Anya's eyes bore into her.

"I found it in a clearing, west of where our ship crashed. I thought that it might've gotten lost there..."

They weighed each other up, eyes scanning up and down, trying to discern just how volatile the woman in front of them could be. "One of my warriors says you approached him in the woods, claiming you meant us no harm. If that is true, then why did you have Lincoln captured and tortured?"

"There was no torture, I assure you; but he did stab our friend with a poisoned blade... we just wanted to find out how to save him."

"You entered his cave, with your weapons drawn."

Clarke felt Anya coil up, tensed; this was where she made her mark. The warrior before her wasn't looking for excuses; she had to be firm and confident now... she hoped

"Yes. Another of our friends was missing; she was chained inside that cave, and we went to get her back. It seems we've both made similar mistakes." She let the last word hang in the air between them. "but we wanna find a way to live together, in peace."

A flash of movement behind Anya caught her attention. The direction of Clarke's gaze prompted Anya to look behind her as well.

Clarke's eyes widened at the sight. It was the warrior from the Reaper tunnels. The short, broad woman, wrapped in dark blue leathers and dark steel armour atop. She spoke a few sharp words to the men on horseback at the end of the bridge, and began striding confidently towards them. Anya sighed a deep and exasperated sigh, before turning back to Clarke. "Say nothing, if you value this peace."

The midnight warrior was a few paces behind them, when Anya finally addressed her. "Hod yu rein daun, Kom Hok." Clarke struggled to find a translation with her limited knowledge of the language. Hod was mind or hold, she had no idea what rein was, but it was possessive of the woman; and she was utterly stumped on daun. The tricky language used daun for a dozen different things in different contexts. She got half the last part at least, the midnight woman was of or from whatever Hok meant. Hold your tongue? Mind you place? Mind that one? It was something along those lines.

"Anya, I would say I'm glad to see you, but I actually value _my_ honesty." The Woman's voice was both smooth as honey and sharp as steel. Anya suppressed a grimace at her use of English.

"Yu non dula daun hir, Kom Hok. Bants." _You've no something something, of the Hok. Leave._ Clarke guessed. Anya didn't seem pleased with this new arrival.

"No business here?!" Clarke hadn't noticed before, but the midnight woman's words held an unusual cadence to them, like they were slightly accented, or she hadn't spoken English in a while. "This is exactly my business. I hold the title, Anya; and I _will_ know what's going on." Her voice had turned sharp and commanding. Clarke unwillingly took half a step back.

"As far as I'm concerned _Hawk_. You forfeited that title three years ago." Clarke definitely felt like she was intruding. Anya's eyes where sharp as flint and her voice was out of patience. She clearly no longer cared what Clarke overheard, falling straight back to English. "You do not wear the red, you were not sent here. I have my orders and your presence is not a part of any of them."

The young warrior was not intimidated by Anya in the least. In fact, upon closer inspection, Clarke saw that the older woman was standing tense, and shifting from foot to foot, as though fidgeting under this Hawk's gaze. That's what Hok would be then. The Hawk, a title, a position of office. Clarke had never heard of it, but the midnight woman's curving war paint appeared almost beak like, now that Clarke knew to look.

"You and I both want the same thing, Anya. We may not like it, but that is the truth." The midnight woman held out her hand, and Anya passed her Lexa's sword. The young warrior moved lightning quick, drawing the sword from the sheath and holding it out beside her in one flowing, perfect motion. When the blade stopped, it did not waver. Clarke had practised with the heavy blade for hours, and still, the effort of simply holding it steady was one that caused the point to shake. The warrior flipped the blade back once and was suddenly holding it with an inverse grip, eyes scanning its hilt. Just as quick as it was drawn, the sword vanished back into the sheath, and the warrior passed it back to Anya, settling her hands back on the blade that was attached to her hip.

Clarke looked at The Hawk's sword, and found it to be of the same style as Lexa's. It was long, and curved, with a round guard and single edge. The woman's sword wasn't decorated though, it simply held the same, dark blue wrapped leather as the rest of her and the carved pommel with a single curved 'v,' just like the tip of her war paint on her chin.

When Anya received the blade, she raised a curious eyebrow to The Hawk. The midnight woman nodded once, and turned her steel grey eyes to Clarke.

"Now, Sky Girl. You will tell me what you saw in Keryon Glad."

And just like that, Clarke was thrown off the deep end. She didn't know who this person was, but she sounded like she knew Lexa. Anya didn't like her, and Lexa trusted Anya. Did that mean Clarke should disregard her as well? Anya had warned her not to speak to the new comer if Clarke valued peace, and there was nothing she wanted more.

She gaped for a moment, thinking of all the plans she'd made and how they were all crumbling. Time was not being kind, it seemed. She shut her mouth and looked to Anya, looking for an excuse to avoid the midnight warrior's primal gaze.

The tall warrior just nodded to her, permitting her to speak.

She took a breath and tried to take the easy way out. "What's Keryon Glad?" that was a legitimate question. She was smart enough to know it meant the Clearing she'd died in, but she didn't know the language well enough to know the actual translation. What was the name of the place that had put her through all this grief?

The Hawk's eyes flickered between her, and the surroundings, scanning trees, assessing threats. More than once they landed on the tense Bellamy Blake at the other end of the bridge. Her eyes would score into Clarke, whenever they came back to settle there, they were calculating in a way Clarke had never seen before. It felt like they were looking _through_ her. "So you know some of our language, but not all of it. Interesting."

At Clarke's shocked face, the woman grinned. It was a devilish look with a fire behind her colourless eyes; and Clarke had a vision of the chaos that could follow a grin like that.

"Stop." Anya mumbled behind Hawk, and the woman drew her face back into the icy mask she'd held before.

Clarke just looked between them, feeling so very lost in a world she'd thought she'd known.

"Keryon Glad, Clarke Griffin, is The Soul's Glade. It is the place where all the spirits of the forest converge. It is a place of great power, and you will tell me what you saw, when trespassing its' depths."

"It was just a Clearing." Clarke swore, but she knew it was a lie. "Just a place with grass and a little pond, and I just found the Sword in the dirt there."

"Branwoda." The woman spat "You entered Keryon Glad, you will tell me what it showed you. You owe me a blood dept twice over Clarke Griffin, and you will tell me what you saw!"

Somehow the smaller woman towered over Clarke, getting right in her face with her cold words. Rapid footsteps behind them lifted the midnight woman's steely gaze.

"Call him off or I will kill him where he stands."

Clarke's heart pounded in her chest. The warrior instilled in Clarke the primal fear of prey. She felt cornered and hunted, and The Hawk's words fell on empty ears for two long heart beats. When Clarke looked up, there was a furious frown on the woman's face, and her hands gripped the blade at her waist. It was the most expression she had seen from the cold impassive face, but now there was a broiling anger.

She looked behind her, and saw Bellamy running towards them, Lincoln was chasing after him, but was still several paces behind.

The world suddenly shifted back into focus and she yelled "Bellamy stop!" She moved and put herself between the furious and very bemused Blake. He slowed his sprint to a walk, but kept coming towards them. She felt the two women at her back weigh them, watching them. When he came level with them, he was more than displeased.

"What the hell is going on here Clarke?" He stood with shoulders squared and feet planted beneath him, looking for a fight. "If this is their commander, I say we make our own peace." He gestured to The Hawk.

That fire sparked behind the woman's eyes again, and Clarke was shocked at just how fast her cold face could turn to fire. "I don't think you would like that, little man." She said it mockingly, and Bellamy bristled. Not the least of this sting came from the fact that the warrior was a full head shorter than him.

"Enough." Anya's voice was tired, as if telling off a child. She put a firm hand on The Hawks shoulder and pulled her back two steps, leaving a decent distance between them and the two Arkers. "You say you want peace. What do you have to offer?" The Hawk's eyes still flickered at them, but she squared her stance, waiting for an answer.

Clarke stayed looking at Bellamy until she was sure he wasn't about to jump at anyone. She turned slowly to the two warriors; unsure how her next words would be received. "I know how to cure the Reapers, and we can help you destroy the Mountain."

They both stiffened, surprised by her words. "That's what the Glade showed me, I know how to defeat them, and my people can help."

The Hawks eyes softened now, showing neither fire, nor ice, but a distant hope she hadn't dreamed to feel for many years. Clarke realised that the warrior was rash yes, but she was also passionate about her people, if her eyes were any judge. She seemed as fickle but as honest as the earth itself.

Anya nodded once "I will inform The Commander of your claims, and tell you when a meeting has been made. Be ready to travel."

She turned her back, and strode off towards her men. The Hawk stayed for a moment, staring the two of them up and down. "I know not why the forest chose you, but you had best be prepared to do whatever it takes." She nodded solemnly, and it almost felt like an apology before she too turned and disappeared into the woods.

"What, the hell, was that?" Bellamy broke up the sentence to display his confusion further.

"I'm not entirely sure. But it looks like we got what we wanted." Clarke turned to start heading back to the drop ship.

"Hold on a second Princess. What did you promise them? We don't know how to do any of that shit. How to you destroy a whole mountain?"

"I'll fill you in. Now hurry up, we've got a lot of work to do."

There was more work to do than there were hours in the day. Once Raven had the Radio up and Running, she spent several hours informing the Ark of the conditions of the ground. Eventually, she convinced Bellamy to come and speak to Jaha, she'd given the Chancellor the same speech, of how he'd been a large part of the groups survival, and that the Ark had sent them all down there to die. They traded the information of Commander Shumway's fickle loyalties and together, they got him pardoned for all crimes on the Ark; just like the rest of them.

Jaha seemed to forgive the man, because he'd done everything for Octavia. Perhaps being able to talk to his son again, put him in a more forgiving mood. When Bellamy was dismissed, they'd began talks of the drawings in her cell and plans to get the Ark on the ground, but she had to push him aside, in favour of letting the Hundred talk to their families on the Ark.

Jaha had been persistent that she should talk to her mother, but she'd told him she needed to be last in the line, in order to set an example for the others. Inside this was the fact that she had no idea how to explain the sketches in her cell or the things she knew.

Before she left though, she requested a word with the Chancellor, off the record. "Sir, I need you to know something. We've been surviving here on the ground as a team, all on our own. We've made our own rules and found a peace that's more forgiving then the Ark. I would ask you to keep that in mind for when you reach the ground. Not everything has to be a death sentence."

She was unyielding in her request. She would not be convinced of any other way and she would not allow him to shrug off the comment either. "Clarke, I know you're still angry about your father, but-"

"No." He stopped mid sentence, unaccustomed to being interrupted. "His death has nothing to do with this. _We_ are on the ground now. _We're_ the ones that will be making a truce with the grounders and I need to know that when the rest of you get here, _that truce will stand_. Everyone needs to be equally informed, or none of this will matter. Trust me sir, when I say you don't want the first thing you experience on the ground to be war." It seemed she had more to say to him than she had though.

He sat impassive at the other end of the line. "How much do you know?" it was accusatory, there was an edge of warning to the question, and Clarke would be hard pressed to talk herself out of this one.

Unless she made an excuse. "My father wasn't a stupid man, sir. He knew about the low oxygen supply, and about the amount of seats on the exodus ship. You _can_ get everyone on the ground Chancellor, but you will need to be honest with your people if you want to avoid a riot."

"Jake found a way to get everyone down? How?"

"I'll tell you after these kids get to speak to their parents. Get Shumway arrested and remember that someone sent him to have you shot. You're on the verge of rebellion sir, only the hard truth will calm peoples nerves and lead them to acceptance." She cut him off once again. "I'll send Wells in." Then she took of the headset and left the tent.

Bellamy seemed to come into his own. Perhaps this time he wouldn't need the major failure of three hundred souls on his chest to realise he was born to lead. They settled their differences and became a force to be reckoned with.

Together they got the wall built, the people fed and the camp to start looking more like a cohesive unit, than a bunch of delinquents.

Two days had passed before she could put the confrontation off no longer. After all the other hundred had talked to their families, there was just Clarke left. She hesitantly entered the tent and put on the headset, seeing her mother on the other side.

" _Clarke_." Her mother whispered her name and it felt like a warm embrace. She saw tears in the eyes of Abigail Griffin and she felt the same thing in her own.

" _Mom."_ She wanted to reach out a hand and hold her. She hadn't realised how much she'd missed her mother until right now.

"Oh sweetheart, I'm so proud of you." And Clarke found her response form in a lump at the back of her throat. "I don't know how you did it Clarke, but I'm so proud."

Clarke couldn't hold back the sob that escaped her. Her breath hitched and she found it hard to find words. Her mother wasn't babying her, she wasn't telling her that she needed to do more, she wasn't telling her what she'd done wrong. She was proud.

"Mom." This was only the second time Clarke had seen her mother since the Mountain. The first time she'd been so preoccupied with giving her all the information she could, but now... Her mom was here as her mom. Not as a councillor, not as a Doctor; but for _her,_ as her mother. And she'd missed that. She felt sorry for not saying goodbye last time, before she'd run off into the woods. She felt the weight of her decisions pierce her in a way she'd be shielding herself from for so long. " _It's so hard._ " She felt a twinge in her chest. It seemed so whiney.

She'd fought so hard, both times. She had no idea if anything was changing at all. She saw the faces of the Mountain men sear themselves behind her eyes; she saw every one of the dead hundred, the people she'd tried to protect. It was all _so hard_ and she was so _tired_.

"Oh Clarke, look at me." A great gasping breath lifted Clarke's eyes to the roof of the tent. She steadied herself before finding her mother's eyes through the screen. "You've done so well Clarke. You just hang in there, okay. I'll be down there with you soon."

"No!" it was a retched betrayal of her voice, but once the word was out, she couldn't fight it anymore. "Please. You can't be on the Exodus ship." She faltered. The Mountain could be listening. She couldn't tell her mother about the jammers on the ground. Maybe she could find a way to blow them up, but that would take with it any chances she had of getting inside the mountain to stop them. There would be no quiet entry into their halls disguised as peace. Could she make do without that?

She didn't know. There was so much she didn't know. She was flying so blind, and yet she knew so much. How did every step feel so alien and yet so familiar? "Mom please." She had to convince her. "You have to trust me. You can't be on the exodus ship, it- I have a bad feeling about it. It won't-" _it won't make it to the ground._ At least not with the Mountain still standing.

What was she going to do?

She talked to her mom for a long time. Abby had calmed her down and then begged her to tell her what the ground was like. Clarke told her how beautiful it was. She told her how wonderful it was to eat food that had flavour and smell the sweet air.

They talked about the grounders down here, Clarke told them that they'd seen powerful warriors, but that there were children and elderly holed up in quiet villages all around.

Clarke did not tell her that she'd seen all this before. It was too hard and farfetched to say over a radio. She didn't know if she had it in her to tell another person anyway.

She talked about getting the Ark to the ground, and told her it had all been her father's idea. They just needed to calculate what parts of the Ark wouldn't break up during re-entry.

Clarke revelled in the feeling of talking to her mother once again. It had been months for her, she'd seen so much. Her mother listened patiently, prompted her when she trailed off and even made her smile once or twice. The pull of her cheek had felt foreign after so long without smiling.

She was so grateful to see her mother safe again.

She started working with Raven to produce a working defibrillator and prototype those sound devices that repelled the Reapers. Perhaps she'd have something ready to demonstrate to Lexa when she finally got through to a meeting with the Commander of the Twelve Clans.

The thought of the meeting set Clarke's head spinning, unsure what to think and how hopeful she should be.

She heard no word from Anya, Lexa or any of the other Trikru warriors. Octavia said she'd spoken to Lincoln a few times, but all this went well above his head.

She couldn't remember who's idea it was, but everyone started having dinner together, all one hundred and two of them. Each night they would go around and people would take turns to tell their stories. She wanted everyone to know everyone else's names.

Finn told everyone that he hadn't taken a space walk, Raven told them she had. Bellamy told them that he'd shot Jaha for his sister, and Octavia had told them how alien everything had seemed on the Ark, and the wonder of the masquerade. Ellie told them that she had stolen parts for a series of pet projects, a device that could make music and robot that could travel the hull of the Ark from the outside, able to make repairs without the need for zero G mechanics.

Raven had scoffed at her, with a 'gee, thanks' but been impressed with the woman's ingenuity.

Glen told them that Ellie would get so caught up in her projects that she'd skip meals, so he'd stolen some food to keep her going. Robert told them about climbing in the vents after his little neighbour. Charlotte told them about assaulting a guard for taking her parents things. Murphy told them about setting fire to the guards quarters that arrested his father.

Most of the hundred where arrested for helping other people, or lashing out after the floating of family or friends. Some of them were just trying to have fun, and others were trying to survive. Nothing any of them had done, deserved a death sentence.

Clarke made sure to remember all their names, and their stories. She would not forget. Not ever.

When she wasn't having nightmares, she dreamt of her last moments in the other time. She dreamt of lying next to that wonderful, powerful warrior, and sharing stories, eating sweet red berries and falling asleep.

It was during such a dream that Clarke was woken with a shove to her shoulder. She startled when she saw Octavia directly above her. "C'mon Griffin, We've gotta go meet their leader."

* * *

 **AN:** There we go. We've got some Anya, we're learning a lil' more about the midnight warrior and have Lexa all lined up for the next chapter. We had some Momma Griffin too, Clarke has a really complicated relationship with her mother. Not just here, but all through the series as well...

I'll have you know that I have a ridiculous amount of back-story for this new character. I don't know, if you'll ever see anywhere near all of it, but it exists. Hopefully she'd not despised, because in this AU, she'd sorta part of the world building I'm doing. (You haven't seen much, but tell me if you hate her.) (She's also been mentioned before the dagger in the tree incident, see if you can spot her.)

Aaaaaand Lexa's coming! Yay!

That said, I have no idea how long the next chapter will take, It's a super crucial moment and I want it to be perfect; so I'll be battling that now.

I've also just noticed that my section spacing hasn't been working at all... if anyone knows how to make ffnet cooperate on that front (like asterisk's working for section breaks and spaces etc. let me know :)

Thanks again!

-Kama


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